Last Christmas?
by Set
Summary: Sam's vision leads the Brothers Winchester towards a path that neither of them ever saw coming. Full Story. Rating for implied scenes and whatnot.
1. Dreams End

Author's Note: Hello, dear readers. I'm sure a majority of you do not know me, if not all of you. I am Set. I am a writer. Not a professional writer, though I would like to think myself to be one day. For now, I must sustain my appetite by writing varied things, which include fan fiction stories. What I present to you here is an entire 67 page story. Of course, I'm not crazy, I don't expect people to read 67 pages in one sitting. So, I've broken it down to 15 chapters. Some are longer, some are shorter. But it is all here, and I hope that you enjoy.

You're probably going to want some background on me, though. And, I need to use it as a disclaimer. First and foremost: I am not a Supernatural fan. You might be thinking to yourself 'if you don't like the show, why are you writing a story about it?' That is certainly a valid question, and it has an equally valid answer: because I got inspired. I read Supernatural fan fiction, just because. Well, I don't read a lot of it. I read the stories that look interesting to me through the summary. One of them dealt with mall Santa's getting kidnapped, and it inspired me. Believe me, the last thing I thought I would do is write a Supernatural story, but I did. To the person who wrote that story and inspired me, thank you. I wish I saved the story so I could state your name in this, but I didn't and I don't really feel like wading through the multitude of stories that have appeared in the 3 weeks since then. But, you know who you are, and again, you have my gratitude.

Okay, so I've already admitted that I don't watch the show. I've watched a few episodes, but it really wasn't my taste. Still, from watching said show, and reading stories, I think I have a general idea of the way the characters are, and a thin skeleton idea of the history and whatnot. Please don't rip me apart for continuity errors. If it makes you feel better, just think of this story taking place in an alternate universe to make all those continuity errors go away. Is it a cop out? Yes, yes it is. But at least I never admitted to it being something else. Also, I'm aware that they say the word 'dude,' but I do not. And I refuse to. I think it is the most annoying and overused word in the English language, and go to great lengths to avoid it. If it makes you feel better, just throw it in when appropriate, but you will not see it here. If that destroys what you imagine to be the spirit of Sam and Dean, then carry on to another story. I won't hold it against you.

Also, no gay sex. But there is straight sex. Implied straight sex, of course, because this website doesn't let you write anything else, and I don't write smut even if I could. Why am I doing this? Well, for one, to counterbalance the amount of Sam/Dean incest stories, since I feel like it, and, more importantly, and, perhaps shocking to some readers: They are not gay. Sure, there's subtext, lots of subtext, but it has never been stated. If they were, I wouldn't mind writing them together, but this is the way it is. It isn't me crusading against homosexuality or slash fiction in general, but it is me trying to stay as in character as possible.

One final point to bring up: I realize, albeit not firsthand, how cold it gets in Alaska around the end of December. No sane people would be out and about during this time. So, we'll work with the explanation that, due to the supernatural activity, the weather in Alaska is, instead of being 'oh my god it is so cold I feel like I'm going to freeze, fall over and break into a million pieces' to just 'friggen cold.' Okay? Okay!

Well, that about does it… I hope you enjoy this story!

Some people were meant for the cold. Eskimos were meant for the cold, it was part of their world. Fat people were meant for the cold, they had all that stored space to keep them warm. Those crazy ass idiots who enjoyed jumping into frozen water in the middle of the winter wearing nothing more than a Speedo and goggles were meant for the cold, they were… well, just stupid. And, apparently, people who lived in Alaska were meant for the cold. Those who were forced into visiting it? They probably were not meant for the cold. At least most of them, anyway. Dean Winchester was one of those unwilling visitors to Alaska (Fairbanks, to be precise) who was not meant for the cold. Conversely, his little brother seemed to be handling the situation just fine. "Are you done yet, Sammy?" Dean asked in a disgruntled tone of voice from inside the Impala. The heater was turned on. But it was Alaska, so it really did not help all that much.

"Just give me another couple of minutes, Dean. That's all I'm asking for." A simple request, in Sam's mind at least. Sadly, the simple requests, or any request for that matter, were the ones that always seemed to grate Dean the wrong way. Just the way that it went. Like a genetic quirk in his older brother's genetic code. He got that stubbornness from their father.

"You've been standing out here for the better part of an hour. Nothing's happened yet. I don't think anything is going to happen. Ever. This is Alaska, Sammy. Nobody gives a damn about this place because it is too far out in the middle of nowhere. Only idiots would even think about coming here, let alone living here!" Dean's tirade was not only heard by Sam's ears. How could it be? After all, they were in a park. Passersby just glared at Dean, for the majority of them were actual residents of Fairbanks. "Yeah, that's right, you heard me! Go and sleep in your igloos or something!" Dean lacked tact. And Dean lacked shame. Dean lacked many things.

Sam sighed quietly to himself and shook his head. "I don't believe you. Here we are, in this beautiful place, and you can't even enjoy it? Even though this city is huge, smell the air. Smell how crisp and clean it is."

"I can't take a deep breath here, you dumb ass. My lungs would freeze before I got to exhale!" Little things tended to piss Dean off. And when Dean was pissed off he was not a good person to be around. So it was hard to tell when Dean was pissed off and when he wasn't, since he always had that look on his face that seemed to say something along the lines of 'you say one stupid thing, and I swear on everything that is holy and unholy in the world I will find a way to rip your arms out of your sockets and beat you to death with them.' "Why don't we just get back on the ferry and head home to the mainland. Where it isn't always freezing. We can go to California. You like California, remember? The sun? The beaches? The women?"

"Since when were you so against doing our job, Dean?" Sam asked as he finally got himself back into the car. It was important that they keep a low profile. They both knew that. But maybe the cold had frozen part of Dean's brain, making him lack even more common sense than normal. A dangerous, dangerous thing, that. "I'm the one who ran away from this life, remember? I'm the one who had enough. You were the one who jumped in with both feet as soon as you could. But here we are, trying to do something we're supposed to do, and the big brave Dean Winchester doesn't want to do it."

"I'm perfectly okay with doing our job, Sammy, when I know what I'm doing. But we're here, in this godforsaken part of the country, where I'm freezing my ass off, and we don't even know what we're doing here. We don't know what we're looking for."

"We have to trust the vision."

"And what was that vision again?"

"Blackness. A cloud of blackness that consumed this place. And it didn't just stop in Fairbanks. It kept on going. That's all I saw. The blackness, and the town sign before it was consumed." Dean would never understand, because he did not have the visions. And Sam was thankful for that. Dean handled things well. Most of the time he handled them better than Sam did himself, but when it came to emotions, Dean was easily the more inferior of the two. And if Sam told his brother how the vision was rife with the screams of agony coming from people, not only the people in the town but the people in the whole world, Dean just wouldn't understand. But Sam understood. Whatever it was, the brothers needed to prevent it from happening.

"Nothing else? Nothing that could help us figure out where to go? What to do? I mean, we've looked at the newspapers. We've watched the news. We've gone to seedy bars and listened to the drunkards babble. That was the only part of this trip I liked, mind you. Nobody's talking. Face it, little brother, this place is kitsch."

"If you want to go back, then go back. If you want to run away from this place because you're wholly depending on me and not able to do anything yourself until we know what's going on, fine. I won't stop you. I have to see this through, Dean. I just do."

"You feel that strongly about it?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded softly. "I do."

"Well, all right then." The ignition was started and Dean rolled up the window on his side of the car. "I have to trust you, Sammy. You're all I got left, after all."

"This mean you're going to stop bitching about anything and everything?"

"No, it doesn't. I bitch because I need to do something to get all this anger out of me. If I don't bitch then I'll just start taking it out on you. You might be taller than me now, Sammy, but we both know that I could still take you if I wanted to. I don't want to get so mad that I need to prove that point. Just don't let the bitching get to you."

"How can I not let the bitching get to me? It's all you ever do."

"Block it out. I know you can do it. Like when we were kids." Dean just gave a knowing smirk before he pulled the car away from its parking spot and drove back into the city.

Fairbanks was, quite literally, one of the lone places of civilization in Alaska. There were other places, sure. There was even Anchorage, which was bigger than Fairbanks, but the town was one of those few inhabited areas that made the state seem a little more normal. Maybe, if he was a different person, Dean really would have appreciated the scenery. But he wasn't that person. And he never really was. It was kind of hard to see the good situations in life when, at the tender age of 4, you're instructed to run with your infant brother and protect him. While your mother dies and your house burns. Truly, it was a small miracle that Dean wasn't one of those Goth kids.

Even the holidays weren't really enough to boost his spirits and consume him with thoughts of goodwill towards men. If anything, the holidays just pissed him off even more. And, to add salt into the wound, it was a week before Christmas. Everywhere Dean looked there was nothing but Christmas decorations. Wreaths and garland and multicolored lights galore. Santa's hanging around the street corners, ringing their little bells looking for donations. Sam would always put some money in their can. It was just who he was. In a way, Dean envied his brother. And, in a bigger way, he pitied him.

"Why aren't you listening to music?" Sam asked, as the guitar riffs and varied other common sounds did not fill his ears inside the Impala, which was almost sacrilegious for someone like Dean.

"The people in this town just don't appreciate good old fashioned rock and roll. They all look at me like I'm crazy when I'm blasting Dark Side of the Moon." Dean turned his eyes to his brother, "Not a word out of you."

"I'm just amazed you care enough about what these people think of you to stop you from doing something you love. That's all."

"Like you said at the park, we need to stay as incognito as possible." Since they were doing something that they were unsure of, it did not require one of their many identity changes. In a way, that was good. Dean was a damned fine actor, but he would much rather be Dean Winchester then some random person whose life he had to be completely aware of. "And, if I play my music, they'll just blast that holiday crap even louder. The sound system in this girl is great, but it can't drown out an entire town full of people playing Jingle Bells or some other holiday song."

"I don't mind it," Sam observed as they continued to drive down the road. "In fact, I kind of like it." If Dean had been watching his brother closely (which he almost assuredly was not), he would have seen that slight glint in Sam's eyes. Yes, Sam Winchester was bitten by the Christmas spirit. The complete antithesis of his brother in most respects, Christmas was just one of them.

"Damn it, Sammy. How you weren't born a girl, I'll never know." Oh, how life would have been that much easier if Dean would have had an identical twin brother. But, though he would be the last one to admit it, he would never trade in Sam for anything or anyone. Sam kept him grounded. It was not an easy thing to do. And he appreciated the fact that Sam did just that.

Another day, the third in a row, was spent searching around the town for something that would give them a hint as to what was going on in the supernatural world that they had figured was their birthright, or curse. Nothing came up, and more bitching from Dean came. But he truly believed in Sam's vision. He had to. It was the only thing that kept him going. Eventually, Dean was finally able to warm his body up under the covers of his bed. Extra blankets were demanded, just because.

Sam had stayed up a little bit longer than his older brother, because he wanted to keep on searching. He believed in his vision. Or at least he wanted to. But who was to say that it was always accurate? After all, it was something that he lacked the ability to totally control. Who could say that it was lying to him or not? Or maybe that was the point. He continued to have faith in his vision, somewhat blindly, but each day that they came up with nothing was like a chink in the armor of his resolve. Still, there came the time when he finally closed his eyes and drifted into sleep. And, as most people are prone to do, he dreamt.

The Winchester home was hardly big on holidays. Any holidays. Birthdays. Easter. Thanksgiving. In fact, there was almost a guarantee that a bigger celebration would be heard through the house when they killed a monster than on any given holiday. They weren't even allowed to have a Christmas tree. Sam always wanted one, but he never got one, and he never really understood why. His mother must have loved Christmas. The way that Dean and his dad talked about her, he just knew. He just knew that she would love the holiday. And maybe that was why. Because maybe it hurt John and Dean too much to be reminded of how much she loved the holiday, and to not have her there to celebrate it with them.

Regardless, there were some rituals that Sam would refuse to give up. He would demand to watch some Christmas specials on the television. Charlie Brown was his favorite, followed closely by Frosty. Sometimes he would coerce his family into plopping down in front of the television with him, but sometimes he would just watch them by himself. It was always special either way.

John Winchester was not a holiday man, that much was obvious. But he was a father, and he loved his children more than anything else in the world. There would never be a tree in the house, but he would be damned if he was going to let a Christmas go by as long as he lived where he didn't at least give his children a single gift. The only problem with that was the fact that he rarely knew exactly what to give them. His life was consumed with things that most people were unaware of, and that meant that he was unable to truly understand the fads that washed over the children during any given year. He barely knew what a Nintendo was.

"What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas this year, Sammy?" John figured there was no harm in keeping the lie alive. Maintain a little bit of innocence in his children for as long as possible, because they had already been robbed of so much innocence. It really was not fair.

"Santa?" The eleven year old, and just as cynical as ever Dean, scoffed. "We all know that he isn't real! Why do you have to lie to him like that, Dad?"

"Dean, go into the other room." John barked angrily.

"But…"

"Now!" His voice rose even more, complete with a pointed index finger, and Dean listened. Rebellious though Dean was, he knew what battles he could win and what battles he could lose. One look at his father was enough to tell him that he would lose if he kept on going.

"Santa isn't real?" Sam asked.

"He's as real as you want him to be, son. Do you believe in him?" Sam just nodded his head. "Good. So, what do you want him to bring you? That way I can send a message to him over at the North Pole."

"A new bike. A green one. Do you think he'll give it to me?"

"Count on it." A green bike? John could handle that. Plenty of bikes around. Not like that one year that Sam wanted him to get the Thundercats base. That was a pain in the ass. Good thing John had connections. "Now, I need to go and talk with your brother. Just watch your shows, okay?"

Sam was, at first, content to do what his father asked, but something took control of his interests. No longer concerned with watching Frosty melt and the little girl cry only to watch him reform, Sam pushed himself off the couch and slowly trotted into the other room. Dean was sitting in a chair, John on his knees. His older brother refused to meet their father eye to eye.

"You shouldn't have done that." John said softly.

"You shouldn't lie to him. You're our father, you're supposed to be honest. Somehow I think lying about some fat, bearded guy in a red suit who flies around the entire world in a night has to count as a pretty big lie. Besides, you told me it was all fake anyway. Why not tell him?"

"Sam's different. He has a part of his mother in him, I guess. He wants to believe that Santa is real, even if it isn't true. So, Dean, I'm asking you, just let him. Okay?"

"Fine." Dean was angry about the whole situation, but he would let it rest. It was out of his hands. What neither was aware of was the fact that seven year old Sam was right there, listening in. And, crushed, he walked back into the room to watch the shows on television. Somehow, in the span of a few minutes, they had lost their magic.


	2. North Pole

Sam opened up his eyes and waited a moment for sleep's hold to be taken away from him. He turned to the other side and saw Dean, already dressed for the day, flicking through the channels on the television. Hearing the rustling of sheets, the shorter man turned his head. "Rough night?"

"No, not really." Sam rose up, the sheets rolling off of his body and revealing his naked torso. The slight drop in temperatures registered against his skin, but it passed.

"You all right?" Dean asked, sensing something was amiss with his brother. Dean may not have been all that great with the touchy feely crap, but he knew Sam. They were bound together in ways that surprised him, but there was no denying their connection.

"Hmm?" Sam took a moment to think of an excuse. He had never told Dean or his father about what he had heard. It made John happy to think that Sam still believed in Santa, after all. And, in a way, that was like a Christmas present that only Sam could present to John. Even if it was a lie. "Yeah. Just let me take a shower and I'll be good. Get the sleepiness out of my body."

"Sure thing, Sammy. Take your time. Isn't like we're in a rush or anything. We could be, if we knew what we were looking for." Dean watched as Sam gave him a cold stare. Too early to deal with his snooty attitude, apparently. And, for a moment, Dean actually felt a little bit bad about it. Just for a moment, though. Returning his attention to the television, Dean muttered, "Alaskan Cable sucks."

The warm water worked its magic on his body, and as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom he was fully refreshed and ready for action. Or inaction, as it was probably going to be. About to say something to Dean, Sam's attention was grabbed by the television. North Pole, Alaska. Really? Maybe it was the dream, but it stuck in his head. "We should go there."

"Go where."

"North Pole."

"Oh no. No way in hell. I'm freezing my ass off in this godforsaken ice chest as it is, I am not going to the damned North Pole. I don't even think we can get there!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Not the North Pole, Dean. North Pole, Alaska. It isn't that far from here. It would be a change of scenery."

"I don't like the sound of it. I hate Christmas, you know that. But that doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two about it. North Pole has to have some sort of huge Christmas motif. I don't want to deal with crap like that. No way, Sammy. No. Way."

"Just because the wave consumed Fairbanks doesn't mean it started there. It could have started in North Pole. We don't know."

"Yeah, and if we start playing the maybe game, it could have started in Tokyo, or back home and just worked its way over here. You're stretching for justification, Sammy. It won't work. I won't go."

"I'll stay out all night and let you have the room to yourself. You can do anything… or, anyone." Depending on Dean's sex drive was a low move. But, if it worked… "All I'm asking is for a little bit of time there. Just to see it."

Dean's eyebrow rose. There was that bartender who didn't look half bad. And maybe a nice piece of ass would be enough to get some of the frustration out of him. A better way? Dean could not think of one. "Three hours. Tops."

"Deal." Even if he didn't believe in Santa anymore… it didn't mean that Sam was willing to let the Christmas spirit go completely.

Dean felt his body tense as soon as he saw the sign telling them they were in North Pole. Why? Because it was, as Dean had feared, completely decked out for the Holiday. Two seconds later, and he was looking at streets that were all holiday in nature. Street lights that were dressed up like Candy Canes. Local businesses that would have made Disneyland's holiday decorations look tame by comparison. "Am I dead? Are we in hell?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because when I think of hell… well, actually, I'd rather be in hell then be here. What's worse then hell?" North Pole, Alaska, apparently.

"You promised."

Dean groaned. He was forced to abide by his word. "That had better be one fine piece of ass."

They found a parking spot, which was helped by the day of the week and the time of day. People were still at work, for the most part. But it was obvious to see that North Pole Alaska was something of a tourist place, at least around Christmas. Sam silently took in the extremities of the surroundings, and, surprisingly, found himself thinking that it was all just a little too much. His mother probably would have loved it, though. Or so he believed.

"Look, there's Santa." Dean's tone of voice showed his utter lack of belief. "Silly little kids. I bet they have elves and everything, just to make it look authentic. Maybe we'll step in reindeer crap, wouldn't that be great? Come on, Sammy."

"What? Where are we going?"

"To see."

"Wait… you want to see Santa? You, Dean, want to see Santa?"

"No, I don't want to see Santa. I want to see the silly kids who want to see Santa. Big difference. If I'm going to be stuck in this place for three hours, I should at least have something to laugh about and make it seem a little less like hell. Or that place worse than hell."

Sam shrugged his shoulders and followed Dean. In a way he wanted to see, too. After all, it was his idea.

The crowd was large, out the door that was to be Santa's workshop. Children by the dozen waited patiently, and impatiently, in line for their chance to see Santa. Sam was never afforded that chance. Though maybe it was a good thing when he was a kid. He was undecided about it. As Dean had assumed, there were elves stationed outside the door. Acting as guards, in a way. They chatted up with the children and the parents, everyone seemed to have that air of festive joy around them. Everyone but Dean.

"Seriously? I think I'm going to hurl. Find me the nearest garbage can, which is probably disguised as Santa's mouth or something."

Sam smirked and continued to watch, but once more his attentions were diverted. This time by a sound. It was soft, but it came from a different direction. "Dean, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I don't know…" Sam paused and continued to listen. It was faint, but rapid. "It sounds like a chime or something."

"Probably just another one of those salvation army Santa's or something. Even here they have them. They probably make a killing, too. The way these people celebrate. Don't you think so, Sam? Sam?" Dean looked behind him and saw no trace of his brother. "Sammy? Where the hell are you?"

As Dean traversed the decorative locale, he too could hear the sound that seemed to bother his little brother. And, like Sam before him, it took him by surprise. Not a normal chime. It sounded almost hypnotic. Alluring, at the very least. Could it have something to do with Sam's vision? Maybe Dean was just looking for a reason, but it seemed good enough to him.

He heard the sound of feet running around a nearby alley, they echoed faintly. Everything seemed so dulled. Like it was smaller in some way. Regardless of reason, Dean followed the sound into the alleyway. "Sam? Is that you?" The alley looked clear, and he walked forward. Something struck him as odd as he moved forward. As he was about midway to the end of the alley, he felt a wave wash over him, and he closed his eyes just for a moment. When he opened them, he was in the snow. And Sam was prone, face first in the snow. "Sam!? Sammy! Wake up… wake…" Dean's body gave way and he crashed down into the snow as well.


	3. The Change

It was warm. Too warm. Dean pushed himself up, his vision still blurry. But, what he could see was not that of the snow which he had fallen into. It looked, and felt like some sort of carpet. Had a random person from the woods seen the two of them and, taking pity upon them, dragged them back to a home? Dean hoped so, because if that was the case then it meant that Sam was okay as well. Sam. Thinking of his brother was enough to spur Dean into action. He stood up on somewhat shaky legs and looked around. Sam was nowhere to be found. "Sam?" He called out, to no answer. "Sam!?" Had something happened to his brother? Dean rushed towards the door, only to find that it was locked. "Let me out! Let me out, dammit!"

"There's no reason to yell. You're in no danger."

"Where's my brother, you…" Dean turned around towards the direction of the voice, ready to complete his threat, but he was instead stunned by the sight in front of him. A man who looked like Santa Claus, standing right there. Red suit, beard and all. "What is this, some kind of sick joke? You some crazy old man with a fetish or something?"

"I can assure you that I'm quite authentic, Dean Winchester."

"How… how do you… you must have checked my ID or something."

The man shook his head. "It is as I feared it would be. You gave up on believing in me so quickly, now that you see me, you still can't believe. Dean, you of all people should know that there are things that we think aren't real, but truly are. I'm one of them."

"So, I'm just supposed to believe that you're the real deal? What's next, the Easter Bunny coming around the corner?"

"Actually, the Easter Bunny really is fake. Sit down, Dean."

"Not until you tell me where Sam is!"

"Your brother is fine, Dean. You have my word. Please, sit down."

Dean didn't want to believe the man who would be Santa. But, for some reason, he did. Maybe because he was really out of options. And, if they were going to hurt him or Sam, they would have already done it. "Where am I?"

"Still at North Pole."

"We're at the North Pole now?"

The man shook his head, "No, North Pole, Alaska, in a way. Every myth has some sense of truth to it, after all. I don't know where they got the idea that I do what I do from the North Pole. Too cold, everything would break down. But whatever works for them. I keep my home hidden. You stumbled upon it."

"Figures. The last place I want to be I stumble upon by accident."

He smiled softly, "You really think this was accidental? No, Dean. I need you. I need you and your brother. It is why I allowed you to be brought here."

"Santa Claus needs the Winchester brothers? For what? To save Christmas? I don't want to be in some Rankin-Bass seasonal special, man."

Santa frowned. He knew Dean would be difficult. Boy had been on the naughty list for such a long time, it was just who he was. "I'm afraid that what you need to help me with is not quite as limited in scope as you would like. It is true that I need you to help me save Christmas, but it is so much more. Your brother has seen it first hand."

"Sam's seen it?" Dean blinked and then his mind kicked into gear. "The blackness?"

"Yes, the blackness. The wave that would threaten to consume all of the light in the world and shroud it in despair. It wishes to strike before Christmas comes. We don't have much time."

"I should get Sam, we can figure this out together. If it really is true."

"No."

"No?" Dean fumed, standing up and taking a few steps towards he who would be Jolly Old Saint Nick. "I did what you asked. I sat here, I listened to your story. I want to see my brother."

"Not like that. We can't let it know you're here. You need a disguise."

"I left all my disguises at the hotel." The man smirked at Dean, and that smirked worried Dean, deeply. "What? Why are you smiling, old man?"

"I'm afraid the kind of disguise that you need can't be bought or made by your people, no matter how talented they are. No, it needs my special touch." Santa snapped his fingers, leaving Dean perplexed.

It felt hotter around him for some reason, but it was just for a second before it faded. "What are you talking about? Special touch? I'm not letting your hands come near me!"

"It's already done, Dean."

"Okay, I've listened to your psychobabble long enough, I'm going to find my brother now." Dean turned around, only to trip and fall onto the ground. "Stupid furniture!" Dean expected to find an ottoman or something, but instead he saw clothes. Familiar clothes. "The hell?" Standing, Dean saw his clothes, right on down to his shoes in a pile on the floor. "I don't swing that way, dammit!" Dean yelled at Santa, looking up at him. Way up. "Hey… when'd you get so tall?"

"I haven't grown an inch."

"You weren't that tall before! If you haven't grown… then that means that I… what'd you do to me?!"

"See for yourself… there's a mirror right there."

Dean turned over to the mirror, baffled by the sight. He'd lost a good two feet in height, and with Sam as his brother he always felt he was a little too short to begin with. What little facial hair he had on his face beforehand was gone, and as he rubbed his chin he felt nothing, not even the slightest hint of stubble. His hair remained the same, but his ears had become pointed and longer than they should have been. He touched them, way more sensitive then they should have been. Worst of all was the outfit. Just like the cartoons that Sam would make him watch. Stockings, lots of green, and bells. He shifted his feet and heard the bells ring. He'd been turned into an elf! A damned elf! "We just had to go to North Pole, didn't we, Sammy?"

Sam stirred awake and tried to remember what happened. He just remembered the strange bell, and then walking towards it in the alley. When he opened his eyes again there was a bunch of snow, then he passed out. Now, as he stood up, he knew he was somewhere else. "Dean?" Dean hadn't followed him. Maybe he was still safe. Or maybe he had followed. Sam looked around and saw that there was nobody in the immediate area. "Hello?" He called out. They hadn't even though to bring guns. Who would need them in North Pole, Alaska?

Finding the nearest door, Sam opened it and looked around. It was a quaint little house. Decorated for the holidays. In fact, it was nice. He felt comfortable. He didn't know why, considering he had no idea where he was. Maybe that was part of it. Maybe it was all just some magic spell that made him feel complacent. He needed to find a way out. And to see if Dean was there.

There was only one door in the hallway, leaving Sam little in the way of choices. He opened the door and looked around. The room appeared empty, but he saw something on the floor. Clothes. Walking over to them, Sam picked them up and knew that they were Dean's. "Dean!? Dean, where are you!?!" Fear crashed over him. Had they killed his brother? Or worse, did they take him captive, naked, to do something horrible to him?

Sam heard the sound of bells and, attempting to act like he was unaware, waited until he felt something touch him. Using his weight, Sam brought the figure to the floor.

"Easy, Sammy! Just me!"

Looking down at the face of his brother, Sam let go of his grip. "I thought… I thought something had happened to you."

"Something did happen to me…" Dean muttered.

"What? Are you okay? Hey… why can I see eye to eye with you when I'm on my knees?"

"Take a look, Sammy. And think. See these?" Dean pointed to his ears. "What about these?" Lifting his legs, Dean revealed the belled shoes. "I'm sure there's a hat somewhere… but I haven't gotten it yet. You getting the idea yet, college boy?"

"You're… you've…"

"That's right. I've been turned into an elf."

Sam tried to keep a straight face, but he just couldn't. It was too funny. Falling backwards, he continued to laugh.

"Shut up, Sammy! This isn't funny!" When Sam refused to stop with the laughter, Dean curled his diminutive fists into balls and started to punch Sam. Sam held his brother steady with a hand, his arm stretched and stood up. Dean looked up and groaned, "Just what I needed, even more of a height complex when it comes to you."

"How… how did…"

"Magic."

"Your voice is a little higher, too."

"No it isn't!" Dean protested, but, upon thinking about it, he realized it was. "I'm going to kill him!"

"Kill who?"

"I believe your brother is referring to me, Sam."

"Yeah, that's right, fat man. I'm talking about you. Change me back!"

"I can't do that. Not until you've helped me. I'm sorry, Dean. I wish I could handle this myself, but I can't."

"Oh my God…" Sam stuttered. "You… you're…"

"Yes, I'm Santa. Nice to finally meet you, Sam."

"Leave it to little Sammy to believe something like this without even doubting it for a minute."

"Quiet, midget," Sam spouted back. "Santa… but you're… you're… real?"

"I'm as real as you need me to be, just like your father said all those years ago. And, I need you and your brother."

"For what?"

"He wants us to help him save Christmas, Sammy," Dean said as he stood next to his brother, at his waist. "Okay, this is just creepy…"

"I told you it was more than that, Dean. And it is." Santa looked at Sam, "The vision you had, of encroaching darkness, it is real. And, it will start here. The creature wishes to eradicate this land, and to kill me. By destroying me, he can thereby eliminate Christmas."

"So?" Dean asked. "It's one holiday out of how many? I mean, think about all the Saint days. We've got plenty of holidays left." Maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea to let Santa get snuffed. If the fat man died, who would change Dean back?

"Your shortsightedness amazes me," Santa retorted. "Dean, Christmas is more than just a holiday. It's a state of being. It symbolizes hope and humanity. You can't deny that people are at their nicest at this time of year. Even if they don't believe in the holiday, they still act differently because of the aura around them. People make Christmas the most hopeful and bright time of the year. If it is destroyed… then what else is there?"

"We'll do whatever we can to help," Sam stated firmly.

"My brother the boy scout. Throwing our names into the ring without even asking."

"You want to be too short to meet the height requirements of nearly any amusement park made for people over the age of six for the rest of your life?" Sam asked. "Because if you don't then just shut up and help him." Sam finally managed to quiet Dean down, "I guess we should go outside and see if we can find anything."

"Not yet, Sam. You're not ready."

"Excuse me?"

Dean watched with delight as he saw Santa's fingers near one another, "This is what you get for being such a bleeding heart." The sound of the snap was heard and Dean saw first hand what happened to him. He saw Sam shrink down to size, and barely saw Sam's ears change under all the hair he had. A moment later, a dazed Sam was standing in a pile of his clothes. "Welcome to the land of munchkins, Sammy."

Sam was still taller than Dean by a few inches, which was almost assuredly going to irk his brother even more. Sam really didn't care. Instinctively, his hand went to his ear and he felt the pointed edge of what had formerly been smooth and round. Santa was taller, and he had to crane his neck up. "I don't understand." His voice, too, was slightly higher in pitch than normal.

"My magic keeps you from extended detection while inside my home, but once you step out that door it won't work for very long. That's why I had to use more magic to change you two. You're my weapon against the darkness, but if it knows that you're here, then it won't be that useful at all. Again, I apologize for this, but it is the only way."

"I understand, Santa." Sam said without hesitation.

"Well I sure as hell don't!" Dean whined.

"Here, put these on," Santa made two hats materialize. "They'll make the outfits complete."

"Perfect…" Dean grabbed the furry hat and placed it atop his head, seemingly regulating himself to his fate. "Just perfect…"


	4. Meet Jingle and Mistletoe

It took awhile for Sam to get readjusted to what had become his height. He could only scarcely remember when he was barely tall enough to look over the edge of a table. Every few moments he would turn his head to look at his brother and see if Dean's look of complete frustration had faded. And, each time he looked, it did not fade away. If anything, Dean seemed to become even more irate the longer he let everything sink in. It was hard for Sam to comprehend, too. They had been human before. And now, what were they? Were they still human, just appearing as elves? Or had they given up their humanity just to help Saint Nick? Perhaps Sam would have been wiser to consider the implications of his decision before he just went into the situation. Too late to revoke his offer. And, really, if Santa was right. If there was something threatening to destroy humanity by starting at its heightened moment of joy and hope, then a few feet in height, unpointed ears, and a variety of clothing was worth saving the world. Maybe Dean was too irate to admit it, but deep down he knew that was true, too.

Each step was like a dagger in his heart. Bad enough that he had to be as tall as he was when he was in grade school, secretly harboring a crush on his redheaded teacher, but there was more that made Dean hate the situation. So much more. Least of which was the fact that, with every step of his feet, those inane little bells continued to ring. How he wanted to just stop, take his shoes off, and rip the stupid things off the tip of his shoes. He wondered if his feet had changed, as well as other, less decent parts of his body.

"Santa?" Another elf appeared as they made their way towards the large building. "Here's the updated list."

"Thank you, Solstice." List in hand, Santa looked at it, "I just hope that we can make all of these children happy this year."

"We will, Santa. I know we will." Solstice finally glared at the two would-be-elves with confusion in his eyes. "Are you two new or something?"

Sam quickly stepped in before his brother made a comment, "Yes. We are."

"Why aren't you working then?" The elf pondered. "Even though Christmas is threatened, we cannot give up hope."

"Oh stop talking like you're straight out of an episode of Full House," Dean grumbled, only to receive a jab to the ribs by his brother.

"Jingle and Mistletoe are under my direct orders, Solstice." Santa looked out of the corner of his eyes to see Sam and Dean looking at him as he said their elf names. "Please, do not bother them. They're going to help me with something very important."

"Of course, Santa. Whatever you say. Please, do whatever you can to help Santa. He needs all the help he can get. We all do." His plea given, Solstice hurried in the other direction. There was work to do.

Dean waited for the elf to leave before he exploded. "Jingle and Mistletoe? What the hell are you on? I know you're not starving. You've got plenty of ways to keep yourself from that for some time."

"It's all part of the cover," Santa mused. "Sam and Dean are not elf names. Just like I couldn't have you walking around at your full height, I can't risk anything. All elves have names tied to the season. I was just said what came into my head right away. You have to understand the importance of such choices."

"I get why we need new names. But when we pick new names at least we get to pick them. They don't make us sound like porn stars." Jingle and Mistletoe? Dean was getting further and further enticed into letting whatever it was that was going to consume them all just take everything and put him out of his misery.

"Quiet, Mistletoe," Sam ordered.

"Oh no. No. If I'm going to put up with this stupid, stupid scheme, I am not going to be Mistletoe!" Not that Jingle was much better, but it truly was the lesser of two evils.

"I don't like this any more than you do," Sam stated. "I seriously feel like I'm crouching down whenever I walk, because I know I should be up there instead of down here, but we make do with what we have. Just deal with it. We don't really have a choice."

Before they could further squabble, Santa spoke, "We're wasting time. Time we don't have to waste. We need to go into my office so that I can discuss the situation with you. I'll lead the way."

Dean, or Mistletoe, continued to fume silently as he followed his brother and Santa through the snow. The doors were pushed open and the brothers were treated to a sight that most children would kill for. A first rate look inside the workshop of Santa Claus himself. As with most things pertaining to the holiday, Dean really didn't care all that much, but he found some reason to be impressed. It was almost exactly like the depictions in the varied forms of media had portrayed it. Elves everywhere. Male, female, some even shorter than him (which he was thankful for), running around in a hurry. Hopefully, they had a good union going. The new hires were barely a blip on anyone's radar as they walked into Santa's private office.

Before the doors were closed, a woman got up from one of the chairs. She was beautiful, her hair the color of spun gold. She looked at the elves and gave a warm smile, but her attention was firmly on Santa. "Kris! There you are. I know you're busy, but you know how I worry about you when you're away for too long. Especially right now. With everything going on."

"I'm sorry, dear. But there were things that needed my attention." Santa walked over to the woman and embraced her in a hug, before giving her a passionate kiss on the lips, "You can see I'm all right. And, with these two, I think our problems will be solved."

Dean realized two things. One, that the woman was Mrs. Claus. And two, a fact which he felt the need to verbalize, "Mrs. Claus is a gold digger!" She looked to be a good thirty years younger than Santa. What better way to describe it? MILF may have sufficed, but then she would need to be a mother. Did Santa have kids? Could Santa have kids?

"De… Mistletoe!" Sam caught himself. Mrs. Claus may have been Santa's wife, but until Sam got clearance from the big man himself, he was going to treat her as a woman who did not need to be in the know.

"And aren't you the cutest little elf I've ever seen in my life," Mrs. Claus declared as she knelt down next to Dean. "You'd better stay away from the girls, they might take a liking to you. Right now we don't need those kinds of distractions. But, I don't quite understand how these two elves are going to help you, dear…"

Visions of old relatives pinching his cheeks as a child danced in Dean's head. They were hardly pleasant memories, "Look, lady, we're not…"

"We're not ordinary elves, Mrs. Claus," Sam interrupted his brother before the entire situation was blown. "My brother, Mistletoe," he looked out of the corner of his eye to see Dean's irked face, just because it amused him, "and I are elves with a little more experience in the situation Santa is dealing with right now."

"If anyone can help, it's Jingle and Mistletoe. That's why I sent for them." It wasn't exactly a lie. He did send for them, after all. "Do you think you could go and supervise the elves handling the electronics? I trust them, but I would feel better if I knew you were there. Please, you know I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important to me."

"Of course. I'll check on you later." Mrs. Claus began to walk away before looking at Jingle and Mistletoe, "Do your best to help my husband." Not waiting for a response, she ruffled Dean's hat and walked away.

"How'd you land a hottie like her, old man?" Dean asked as he straightened his hat. If he had to wear it, then he was going to make sure that it at least looked decent. "I mean, Sammy here made me watch all those cartoons when we were kids, there aren't a lot of people above four feet tall around here."

"I'm above four feet tall," Sam declared.

"That's because, elf or human, you're still a damned ogre!" Dean countered. "Look, Santa, I'm not faulting you. Hell, I'm actually kind of impressed."

Santa smiled and chuckled, "You're right. My wife isn't normal. In fact, she's like the two of you. She's human. Every so often, there's a person who retains that sort of belief, even in adulthood. They're mocked for their childish beliefs, but they stay strong. And those rare few are able to see beyond the guise of the illusion that keeps this place secret from normal people. If they should ever come to North Pole, they will see it, but they hardly ever do. Shannon…"

"How come she gets a normal name?" Dean quipped.

"Shannon," Santa continued, "was such a person. And, I had waited for some time for a companion. She was glad to become my wife. One of those rare souls. You could have been one as well, Sam…"

"Like I'd let my little brother believe in something so stupid…"

"Something that ended up being true," Sam said softly. "I'm sorry, Santa. I just…"

Santa waved his hand, "You don't need to apologize. Deep down, maybe a part of you still believed. It really doesn't matter, does it? Now, we should really talk about the darkness. Do you know what we can do about it?"

"Give me my clothes back and I can use my gun to shoot it," Dean answered. An easy solution. One that would get him out of the ridiculous outfit and back to his full height. Hell, he might even petition Santa to make him a little bit taller. If Santa could shrink him, why not?

"You brought your gun to North Pole?" Sam asked.

"I take my gun everywhere, Sammy. I put it on top of the john when I'm taking a shower. Why does this surprise you?" A possible hitch in the plan flashed in Dean's mind, "I just hope that I can fire the gun with accuracy like I'm used to. And that the force of the gun going off doesn't kill mini-Dean."

"Guns won't work here," Santa firmly stated. "Violence never solves anything."

"Let me get this straight," Dean began, "there's this thing. This dark thing. We don't know what it is, so we don't know how to stop it, but the pretty surefire way of stopping something, by shooting it, isn't an option because you've used your magic to make violence null in void? Why are we here then? We kill stuff, fat man. It's what we do."

"He has a point, Santa," Sam couldn't deny that. Even if Dean's inner… deanness… made it a pretty rude and painfully blunt point. It was a point. "I don't know how we can do something to help if we can't destroy what threatens this place. And if we can't destroy it here, it will corrupt the world."

"There has to be another way to win," Santa leaned forward from his desk. Was it really hopeless? Would his mission end in such a horrible way? He didn't want to believe that it would. "You must find another way!"

"We're not your bitches!" Dean growled. "First, you bring us here. Then, you turn us into short, pointy eared faeries…"

"Elves," Sam corrected his tirade-induced brother.

"Not the point, Sammy!" Dean gained back his momentum, "And now you're just trying to force us into a situation where we don't know what the hell we're trying to do? It isn't that we don't want to help… you're just not giving us many options."

Santa was beginning to regret bringing at least one of the Winchesters into his world. A simple guess was needed to discover which one. "All right. I'm sorry. I just… I don't know what to do. You think you feel useless? What about me? This is everything I am. If it's gone, if I realized I've failed everyone, how do you think it will make me feel?"

"You won't really feel anything for long. You'll be dead. Or whatever it is that happens to you spirits of Holidays."

"Dean!" There he went again. Violence may have been forbidden in Santa's world, but what about duct tape? "Santa… can we leave this place and come back?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can we walk back out there. Back into our world, and come back here? Right now, we don't have anything that we can work with. But we have options that we can check out if we're on the other side. We're hunters. You know that. We wouldn't survive if we weren't able to get information on how to kill things. Almost anything. We might be able to find what we're up against, too. But we can't do that from here, and if we can't leave…"

"I do not want to leave if I'm going to be stuck like this!" Dean protested. "I wouldn't even be able to see above the steering wheel, let alone push the pedal!"

"You can leave," Santa declared. "Whenever you want. The same way you came in. The magic that disguises you will more than likely remain only on this side of the illusion."

"More than likely?" Dean certainly did not like the way he said it. "What do you mean, more than likely?"

"I've never had to do what I did for the two of you before. I never had to disguise humans as elves. I know my magic isn't strong enough away from here on other people, but I don't know how much, if any, of it will be left."

"That's just a risk we'll have to take," Sam was usually the one that wanted to play it safe, but when there were no choices there were no choices. "Come on, Mistletoe. We need to go back."

"Lead the way, Jingle."

Normal clothes in their hands, Sam and Dean looked at the other side of the illusion. It was the alleyway that had led them to the workshop. They were alone, save for Santa, who was just there to make sure nobody stumbled on them and their departure.

"I swear to God, Sam, if I step out of this place and stay short and you grow back to your normal height I will bite your ankles until my teeth break!"

"Anyone ever tell you that you try too hard to compensate for your lack of height in other ways?"

"I haven't heard any complaints from those who have had the benefit of helping me get over my height complex." Dean smirked, but he was still nervous. Midgets didn't get chicks. It was like a rule, or something. "You first, Jingle."

Sam, who was nervous himself, closed his eyes and took the plunge. The somewhat familiar wave took over his body as the light washed over him, and, when he opened his eyes, he was back in the real world. There were a few problems, though. The first was that he was completely naked, as the elf outfit had left his body. The second was that his naked body took the cold hit quite hard. Shivering, Sam hurriedly put his clothes on. They fit without any problems. So he knew that he was as tall as he was supposed to be.

Dean walked through a moment after his brother. Opening his eyes to see Sam's completely naked ass was not the sight that he needed, but it was only a momentary distraction that kept him from realizing he was also in the nude. Following Sam's motions, Dean put his clothes on before he was arrested for public nudity. That was the last thing he needed. "You'd think he would at least warn us that we'd freeze our asses off as soon as we stepped out."

"He didn't know. He told us that." Sam laced up his shoes and looked over at Dean. He stared for a moment. "Um, Dean…"

"Sam, if you're checking out the size of my dick…"

"Ears." Sam stated rather simply. "Your ears."

"What about them?" Dean asked before he took his hand to one of them. "Dammit!" He spouted with unbridled fury as he felt them tipped. Elf ears. He still had elf ears!

Sam immediately checked his own ears, just to be certain. They were also pointed. "You're not alone. But my hair covers them."

"This is what I get for having a manly haircut?" Dean asked. "We have to do something. I cannot walk around with these things. Sammy, find something. Anything! Hurry. I'll stay here."

Dean paced in the alleyway as he waited for his brother. Every few seconds he would check his ears to see if they had shrank back down to size. And each time he checked he continued to spout the same expletives. If children walked by they would surely have their own (non-pointed) ears covered by their parents. Finally, a shadow appeared over him, "About time. What'd you get?"

"You're not going to like it…"

"I was just wearing an outfit that would make Richard Simmons look straight, okay? You think I care about whatever it is you're going to pull out of that bag?" Sam just sighed and Dean watched his brother revealed the contents of the bag. A Santa hat. Sam bought him a Santa hat.

"It was all they had," Sam stated. It really was, too. They were in North Pole, Alaska. During Christmas. What else would there have been?

"I must have done something to piss off the gods of irony," Dean grumbled as he grabbed the hat and put it over his head. It covered his ears, and kept them warm. Longer, pointier ears got extremely cold in the freezing cold weather. The hat was a small comfort in that respect.


	5. The Return

The drive back to Fairfield was filled with silence. Though no longer within the city limits, Dean kept the music off. It was surprising to both of them, but Dean had an idea why he did it. His mind was digesting so much. And, even if he tried to forget it, one look in the mirror would show the hat that covered his ears, and that would just bring it all back.

He turned to look at his equally silent brother. Sam had been fidgeting throughout the ride. It was unlike him. But all those fidgets seemed to be directed at a certain part of his body. "Rubbing them won't make them go away. Believe me, I tried."

Sam lowered his hand from touching the edge of his pointed ear. Truthfully, he hadn't even really realized that he was doing it. It was just one of those things that people did when they were dealing with something and they needed a distraction. To the people on the outside there would be nothing wrong with him. They couldn't really see the tip of his ears through his shaggy hair, but Sam could feel them. Even when he wasn't touching them, they just felt different. "I hate this…" Sam muttered.

"Really?" Dean asked, a little annoyed. "Given the way that you just volunteered yourself to help Sam, I would think that you wouldn't mind having a little something to remind yourself of your time next to your idol."

"Is that what you think?"

"I just said it, didn't I?"

"Well, you're wrong. Dead wrong. Dean, we do what we can to protect people, remember? That's what we're supposed to do. That's what Dad would do for us, what he did for us. Throwing ourselves on the line, even for people we don't know, people we'll never meet, it is all a part of the package deal. I understand that. But that doesn't mean I like it. I ran away from it before, because I didn't think I could accept it. Now, I don't really have a choice. I can't run away anymore."

"Why not? You think I'm going to stop you, Sammy? Hell, if you go, then that means I have less chances of being turned into something else. I've already been an elf. What's next? We go to Disneyworld and Tinkerbelle asks you to help and then I end up getting turned into a pixie dust sprinkling fairy?" Though, the wings would be kind of cool…

"I'm not going to leave you alone, to fight this all by yourself. And I'm sorry that you got sucked into this. As much as I hate it, I know you hate it a hundred times more. If I could have thought of a way to keep you from it…"

"I would have ended up following you anyway. You're not the only one who made a personal vow to stay with his brother, no matter what. So the living embodiment of Christmas wasn't exactly part of my plan when I made it, I'll admit that, but even then… I wouldn't have changed it." Sam was, after all, all Dean had left. Dean would do everything he could to keep his brother around.

They pulled up to the parking lot of the hotel where they still had a few days left before they were assigned to check out. It was after Christmas. So, if they failed, the last thing they had to worry about was not paying their ever increasing bill, or checking out before noon. Dean walked in first and looked around. The little things that he took for granted, like not having to be boosted up to get on the bed, slowly sank in. One other thing came into his mind, "Okay, you need to leave now."

"What are you talking about?" The order came out of leftfield.

"We had a deal, remember?" Dean asked. "I spend a few hours with you at North Pole, you give me the room for the night. The deal was for three hours. We left before noon, and we just got back. Way more than three hours."

"Dean… we have to research…"

"You can do the research by yourself. This is Fairbanks, Alaska, Sammy. Plenty of places with Wi-Fi connections. Just take everything that you need and get out. If we only have a few days left in the world, then I want to make the most of it."

"But…"

"This isn't up for debate. We had an agreement. You have to honor it. And I need to hit the bar and see if that can help me forget everything that happened. If it isn't, I know for damn sure I can find someone who can help me find my own private center for the night. I wouldn't fault you if you wanted to take a break from helping the fat man. We still have some cash if you want an extra room."

"No, thanks. I still seem to remember what our purpose is. I guess one of us has to, right?" Sam grabbed everything that he knew he would need for his research, the look of disgust and disappointment never once fading from his face. "I'm taking the Impala."

"Fine. Enough places within walking distance. Once I have some booze in me I won't care about the cold."

"Don't forget to keep your hat on, Link," Sam retorted wryly before slamming the door.

Dean looked at the hat in his hand. He had actually forgotten about going out and getting women with elf ears. But the hat would cover it. And, given the way people in the town seemed to be orgasmic over Christmas, it would probably help his case.

Hours passed, the sun rose again, taking away the darkness in an eternal battle. If they were unable to help Santa, then it would be one of the last times that the sun could claim victory. Sam had spent a majority of the night parked near a Starbucks, close enough for the connection to work. And, he had spent scant few hours sleeping in the car. Luckily, the Winchesters were people who had long since perfected the art of getting plenty done on almost no sleep. Sometimes none at all. He may have fallen out of the groove when he went to college, but his time with Dean had shown him that certain aspects of his life were just like riding a bike.

The anger in Sam's heart with his brother's cold brush off had hardly diminished over time. He tried to understand Dean's stance, and maybe a small part of him did. After all, Sam had the same needs as his brother. He wasn't a monk, he wasn't sworn to celibacy. And, if they did lose, could he really fault Dean for taking the time to find something so distracting that he could forget that looming fact for any period of time? No, not really. But that didn't mean that Sam agreed with his brother. Not in the least.

Sam put the key into the door of their room and opened the door, hoping that the woman would be gone. It wouldn't be the first time that he had caught Dean after the act, but the less he did the better for all parties involved. Mercifully, Dean was still in the bed, sleeping on his stomach, alone.

Dean opened his eyes as the sunlight hit them from the opened door. One look at Sam's face gave him all he needed to do, "You didn't take my advice, did you?"

Ignoring the comment, Sam retorted, "When'd your friend leave?"

Reaching over to move the alarm clock so that he could see the time, Dean read the numbers, "About three hours ago. You know, she didn't mind the hat. And, when it fell off, she liked rubbing the ears. I told her it was just a family trait. Far as she could tell, if she met you, it would be."

Sam only rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Yeah, whatever," one of Dean's legs slid out from under the cover, giving light to the fact that he had slept naked. He grabbed his boxers from the mound of crumbled clothing on the floor and slid them on. "What'd you find out?"

"On my own?"

"Oh, don't start with that. It's too early."

"A lot, actually."

"You know what we're up against?" Dean hoped so, because it meant less time living the life of Gary Coleman and the kid who played Webster.

Sam shook his head. "I couldn't find much on the creeping darkness. It could be a lot of things. A nightshade. Creeper. Shadow Demon. The list is endless."

"So why'd you tell me that you found out a lot?"

"Because I researched more than just the creature that we're up against. I researched Santa and the elves. I thought that their history could give me a hint as to what we're looking for. There are so many different takes on Santa, but a few of the more reputable places all seem to have the consensus that he wasn't created like an elemental. He was converted."

"Converted?"

"Like a vampire, I guess. Just not as drastic. Santa was just this guy once. Just this guy who had a lot of good qualities in him. And, he found a way to expel everything that wasn't good and become the person that we know now."

"So, he ascended from a normal human being into Santa Claus?"

Sam nodded. "That's what I think happened. We should ask him when we go back."

"You can ask him…"

"Don't tell me you're not going back, Dean!"

"Relax, Sammy. I told you yesterday that I wasn't going to let you go stag with this, and I meant it. Santa just pisses me off, okay? He always looks so smug and happy, and there I am, known as Mistletoe, and there's not a damned thing I can do about it."

"I researched the elves, too. They're descendents of the elves from Norse Mythology. I guess they were just drifting without purpose in what would become North Pole, Alaska when Santa came and decided to make it his home base. Ever since then, they've worked tirelessly with him. They're long lived, but not immortal. And, biologically, they work a lot like humans do. They're also completely hairless, aside from on their head."

"Michael Jackson would have a field day if he found that place. So would the people who made Menudo." Sarcasm was Dean's way of dealing with… well, everything. Especially the things that he didn't want to deal with. Elves had found a way to be at the top of that list. Funny how that worked out. "But there wasn't anything in all that research you got from Santa or the Elves that would connect them to this thing? You know, like it could be a frost giant or something… weren't they enemies in Myth?"

"Frost giants can't utilize the power that I saw in the vision, and from what Santa told me himself. Believe me, I looked at that angle. Aside from ancient enemies, the elves have managed to be pretty complacent as time's gone on. Since they've been shielded from nearly everyone, it makes sense."

"So we're back at square one? You told Santa that we needed to go back here so that we could do some research and hope we would know what we were up against, and you came up with squat?"

"Maybe if I had some help," Sam spat back with venom and anger secreting through his words.

"I don't think it would have mattered. It isn't like we can just look them up on Wiki and come up with all the information we need." Dean finally stood, leaving his clothes on the ground aside from the boxers which adorned his body. "I'm sorry it wasn't easier for you. Just let me shower, then we'll go back. We have to find a way to beat this, Sammy. I don't want to die an elf. I really don't."

"You actually care enough about your appearance to take a shower before we go back?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders casually, "There's something about going to Santa's workshop dirty that just doesn't feel right. I can't explain it."

"Maybe you're starting to believe more than you ever thought."

"Please," Dean scoffed. "I'm not going to run over to Santa and hug him and tell him all the things I wanted for Christmas but never got and hated him for anytime soon." Dean walked by Sam and pulled the gun out from its hiding space in the dresser, "Can't forget this, can I?"

Sam said nothing, instead he sat on the edge of the bed and continued to try and pry some information out as to what they were facing. If they didn't know what they were up against, they wouldn't know how to beat it. If they didn't know how to beat it, they would have to improvise and hope for the best. They had been lucky in that respect, but luck always had a time when it would run out.

"You go first, little brother," Dean said as he practically pushed Sammy through the fake alleyway where their whole ordeal had taken a turn for the worst. Sam effectively gone from sight, Dean muttered something that would let people know just how much he hated the idea of going to the other side again, but he did it anyway. One step later, and he was back on the ground, headfirst in the snow, but conscious. Standing, he heard the bells and looked down to see his elf shoes, "Wonderful."

Sam had his clothes draped over his arms. Given how much height he had lost in the transformation, his jeans dragged along the ground. "We'd better find Santa."

"And tell him what, exactly? That we came up empty handed?"

"We can ask him questions. We can ask the elves questions, too." Sam was stretching, but if it worked, it worked. "Just because the places I went for information were among the best places we go doesn't mean that they were always authentic. They could have missed something. Right now it's the only thing I can think about doing."

Dean thought about it, and agreed with the assessment. They were lacking direction, but trying to get as much information out of the people around the situation was a good way of filling the gaps. "You talk to Santa. I'll take the elves."

"You sure? There are a lot of them. Maybe we should do it together."

"I told you, Jingle, I can't stand being around Santa for too long. This way, you can talk to him while I'm talking to his little helpers and when you're done it'll mean that we have that many less elves to talk with." And, Dean got to avoid prolonged time with Santa. Everyone would win.

He had a point. "You do what you need to do. I'll find Santa. He's probably in his office. Remember, don't give yourself away."

"I got it, I got it. Mistletoe…" saying the name was like swallowing glass, only more painful on his throat, "reporting for duty."


	6. Starting from Scratch

Santa had a task that would surely break a lesser man. But when one man broke there was almost always someone there to take up the slack. With Santa, there was not. There was only one Santa, and he was that person. So, while putting up a brave face, he silently worried about what would happen. If the brothers would even return. He trusted Sam to do the right thing. But Dean? Not so much. And, as he had observed, Dean had the ability to subject his will on his little brother in some ways. It was, after all, why Sam gave up on believing. A knock at his door caused the man to pull himself back from his thoughts into the present. "Come in."

"Santa?" Sam gently pushed the door open. "Do you have a moment?"

"Of course, Jingle. For you, I have plenty." Waiting for the door to close, Santa's demeanor changed as soon as he heard it shut, "Did you find anything while you were away?"

"Nothing extremely helpful," Sam grimaced. "But, we found some leads that we could try and use."

"Leads? What kind of leads?"

"Is it true that you were a human? Like Dean and I? Like your wife?"

"Excuse me? I don't see how that's relevant." Ancient history, in his mind.

"We're just trying to confirm some things about your origin. Maybe there's a link in your past that could bridge together the problem and the solution. The research I did on you seemed to implicate that you were born human."

Santa turned his back to the supposed elf and looked at the fire burning in the hearth. It seemed so odd, Santa being asked such private questions by an elf. But Sam was not a true elf. And he knew he needed to be as honest with the brothers as he could. "It's true. I was born human. Kristof Cringle. Thousands of years ago. I always felt different as a child. People would always say how pure I was. Pure of heart, pure of soul. I never really believed them, but I was always happy. Always happy."

"How did you… become Santa?" The details that Sam got were extremely slim on that process. Not that he hoped to be able to repeat it himself. If Santa was required to be pure, Sam did not fit that bill.

"Truthfully? It just happened. I was given this responsibility by a higher power. I wasn't always this big, I was actually quite scrawny for the first millennium. Back then, a lot of people didn't believe in the spirit I hoped to spread. But as time continued and it became more of an acceptable tradition, life became more comfortable. At first, it was just me. Then, I found the elves here, and the reindeer came after. I just can't believe that everything I worked so hard to build up can be destroyed so quickly. So easily."

"We still have time, Santa. We can still find a way to win."

"But if we don't know what we're coming up against, Sam, how can we win?" Doubt was a powerful thing. Especially in hearts which had forgotten what it was like to feel doubt.

"You wouldn't happen to have a library around here, would you?" Sam wondered. "A room where you have a lot of historical information about this place. You know, like where you would put down your life story. Sort of like a room for your autobiography."

"I don't," Santa said with a shake of his head. "But the elves do. One of them, Garland, when I first arrived, he wanted to take my information up until that moment. I had so much free time back then that I gave it to him. And he just kept on adding to it. When he died, his family kept it going. His great grandson, Tinsel, is the current head of the library. There's probably things that I've completely forgotten about in that place."

"That's exactly what I'm hoping for, Santa. Anything that you might not be able to remember that could give me some leads." With all the technology around, Sam had little doubt that the computer would work, but he severely doubted that they had internet at the workshop. After all, why would they need it? "If you see my brother, could you tell him that's where I went? I was supposed to help him ask the elves questions, but I think I can be more useful this way."

"The elves? You left Dean alone with the elves?"

"Maybe it'll help him adjust to his current state of being. The ears stuck with us when we traveled over. He wasn't too happy about that. Neither was I, really. I kind of like being completely human. It was one of the only things that made me feel normal in my crazy life."

"If we win, Sam, I can restore you and your brother completely. But if you returned here without the enchantment it would have taken a toll on your body like the first time. I couldn't wait for you to wake up again."

"I understand, Santa." Sam agreed that time was off the essence, "Just, tell him. Please."

Dean continued to bob and dodge his way through the masses that seemed to be hell bent on building toy after toy after toy. Their resolve was nothing short of miraculous. The end of everything they were seemed to be only a few steps away, and yet the only thing that the elves continued to do was work like there was nothing going on. Nothing wrong with the world. Dean wouldn't lie, he admired their resolve. Unless they were just too stupid to know better. But he couldn't imagine Santa just lying to all of them. He didn't like the man that much, but such a bold faced lie just seemed like something way out of his league.

Another elf walked into Dean, catching him by surprise and sending him backwards. The other elf also fell, dropping some of the contents onto the floor. The sound of the bells ringing around like crazy echoed in the air. They did very little to help the situation in a positive way. "Watch where you're going!" Dean barked as he rubbed his tailbone. Violence may have been forbidden in Santa's world, but apparently elves could still feel pain.

"I am so sorry!" The voice seemed more effeminate than he was expecting. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I? I was just in such a rush that I wasn't watching where I was going."

Dean looked up to see that his assessment was correct. A female elf. She had red hair that fell just beyond her shoulders and crystalline eyes that just seemed so bright. One hot elf. That was a good way of describing her. "No, you didn't hurt me." Dean got up to his feet and noted that he was a few inches taller than her. Good. If he was shorter than the female elves, he really would pitch a fit. "Sorry about yelling at you. I'm just on edge."

"You wouldn't have needed to yell if I wouldn't have bumped into you."

"But I should have realized that it was an accident. Here," Dean got on his knees, "let me help you pick up these things."

"Oh no, you don't need…"

"I want to," Dean interrupted. "It's the least I can do to apologize. Besides, I never leave a pretty lady hanging."

She smiled, her pale skin noticeably blushing. "Thank… thank you." She got on her knees too and stared at him, "I don't think I've seen you around, are you new?"

"Yeah. My brother and I just got summoned from Santa yesterday." Not a lie. And it didn't divulge anything huge. "My name's De… Mistletoe." Points for catching himself in time.

"Mistletoe, that's a pretty name. It fits you."

Dean just blinked. How the hell did a name like Mistletoe fit him? "How do you mean? You don't get the urge to kiss me when you're under me, do you?"

She just giggled, "You're funny. My name's Holly. It's nice to meet you."

Holly? It fit the Christmas motif. But how come she got a normal sounding name and he got shafted with Mistletoe? Sure, it didn't kill him to think it was his name anymore, probably because of what she said (he was fickle like that), but still. A name like Pine. Now that was a nice, manly name. "What's all this stuff for, Holly?"

"Ribbon and wrapping paper for all the toys that we're going to put in the sled when Santa takes off on Christmas Eve. I just… I just hope that we can even get that far. It's kind of odd that Santa would ask for two new elves, with everything that's happening right now."

"Jingle, that's my brother, and I are here to help Santa with that problem. Don't worry your pretty little head off, Holly. We're going to find a way to beat this and keep Christmas alive. I promise you that." And, if they failed? At least Dean wouldn't have to lament making the promise. Death sort of absolved such things.

"Really?" Holly asked, hope brimming in her eyes.

"Elves honor."

"Oh, Mistletoe!" She wrapped her free hand around him, "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

"I aim to please." Dean smiled. "Now, why don't you let me help you take all of this stuff back to your station? You'll have less of a chance of running into someone else that way."

"You've already done too much…"

"Holly, please," Dean touched her hand gently, "I told you. It just isn't in me to leave someone like you hanging without offering some kind of help. Now, we can spend the next few minutes arguing all nicely about how I don't need to help you, or you can just let me help you. What's it going to be?"

"I guess I'll just let you help me then, won't I?" Holly really didn't mind. In fact, she welcomed more time with the visually appealing stranger. "Thank you again."

Somehow, the elf's place of residence reminded Sam a little too much of the Smurf village. Sure, there were a distinct lack of mushroom houses, but that was about the only thing that they had going for them. Well, that and the fact that the houses were comparatively much bigger. And, they had some variety to them instead of just being the same colored house. Even some places back home didn't have that kind of variety. Regardless, a society where a bunch of diminutive people lived together in harmony was going to pull up some sort of connections to the cartoons which Sam grew up on. It was just the way that it went.

Even so, he studied the surroundings as he walked through the snow, his belled shoes slightly jingling along the way, somewhat dulled by the plodding. His keen eye continued to look for something, anything, that could be used as a hint to uncovering the mystery of the darkness that threatened them all. One of the biggest issues that Sam had in his mind was why it would target the workshop first. It was true that by destroying Christmas something would inevitably be stolen from the world, but was it really that important? People survived without Christmas. There were people who didn't even celebrate the holiday. Could it really be that important?

Signs with words and pictures seemed to give way to the establishment's purposes, if they were not residencies. A general store? Why would the elves need a general store? And what did an elf general store have for sale? He curbed his inquiries and focused on the matter at hand. Passing through a few more unexpected establishments, Sam finally saw a sign that showed an open book. "Must be the place," he said softly to himself as he reached over to open the door.

The sheer scope of the elfin library took him by surprise. There was book after book after book lined up against the walls. Stacked so high that, even at his full height, Sam would need a ladder to reach the top. It was amazing and awe inspiring. The only thing that could come out of his mouth was, "Wow…"

"I thought I heard the door open." An elf, carrying a few books, turned around the corner with a smile on his face. "You must be Jingle. Santa called and told me that you were coming, just so I would know to expect a new face. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too." Obviously, the elf that was speaking to him was Tinsel. He seemed nice enough, but Sam was not going out of his way to make any sort of formalities. There was too much at stake for such things. He understood that. "Are all these books about Santa?" God, Sam hoped not. If they were, he would never be able to read them before Christmas. He'd never be able to read them in his lifetime!

Tinsel chuckled softly as he put the books that he had in his arms on the table. "No. In fact, none of these books are about Santa. We're in charge of making every single child's Christmas wish come true, remember? And sometimes the thing that those kids want the most is a book. For awhile, they hardly ever did. Thank Harry Potter for that trend ending. Each time we made a book, we made another one and we've stored it here. This is basically hundreds of years of requests in the same building."

"Just like the Flight of Dragons…"

"By Peter Dickenson? We've got that." Tinsel walked to one of the many bookshelves and picked it out. "Here, see?"

Sam looked at the cover of the book. It wasn't the book he was referring to. Though, he had always wanted to read the book that had inspired the movie. Even more amazing to him was Tinsel's ability to just know where everything was. "How did you do that? There's so many books here and you just knew where to find this one without a problem…"

"When you spend as much time in this place as I do, you get to know where things are. 700 years, and 500 of them have been as the chief librarian. Sad part is, I'm not really that much of a reader myself. Just the lot in life that was assigned to me. You know?"

"Yeah… yeah, I do know." And he really did. Born into a life, a career, that did not suit him? Sam was a poster child for such an event. Much to his dismay. "I really should get started on reading the books about Santa, though."

"Why is it so important that you look up Santa? He's Santa. Everyone knows what he does."

"He wants me to help him solve the problem that is weighing on his mind. I'm thinking that maybe, just maybe, there's a link in his history that will help find the solution. He told me that he's been doing this for so long that he can't possibly remember everything that's ever happened to him. That's why I'm here."

Tinsel nodded, "I see. That's the only part of my job that I really do like. Continuing to chronicle Santa's life, and all the things that he does. I just hope that it doesn't end. All that history, destroyed. Not that it will matter if it does end. Come on, Jingle. If you think you can find something by looking up Santa's history, I'll help you."

Sam followed the elf, putting the book next to those that Tinsel had brought upon their meeting. As they walked, he continued to look around at all the books. So many of them. Way too many. And they all fit in a space that seemed so small by comparison. Maybe the elves had some special power of being able to fit things into a smaller space.

"Here we are," Tinsel said after a few moments of walking. The area where they stopped was decidedly different than any of the other places that Sam had seen up to that point. A much smaller shelf that had a scant few amount of books. Though they were small in number, the size of the books would put Moby Dick to shame. "Everything any elf in my family has ever recorded on Santa Claus is right here in this section. How do you want to start?"

"From the beginning and work my way up. The further back I go, the more I'll find out."

"That would be this book, then," Tinsel grabbed the book from the shelf, the weight causing his arms to droop down considerably. "Volume one." He put it on a nearby table, the thud of the book hitting the surface causing a slight pounding echo. "I'll get volume two and help you."

"I thought you said you hated to read…"

"Just because I hate what I do doesn't mean that I don't accept that it is a part of who I am. If I didn't accept it, I wouldn't be able to go on."

Once more, Sam felt a certain sense of understanding with the elf. But it was surprising, to see an elf, one of Santa's elves, no less, who was unhappy with the lot in life that was provided to him. They always seemed so happy in the animated specials. Like they had nothing to worry about in the world. It was his own fault for being so stereotypical. They were way more complicated than he would have ever given them credit for. A slight that he hoped he could correct, eventually.

Looking at the daunting book that contained Santa's earliest history sent a shiver down Sam's spine. He liked to read. It was one of the reasons why he was usually charged with researching whatever they were up against. He was also better at it than his brother. Dean was much more of the brawny type. Not to say that he was unintelligent, it was just that Dean was happier when he was punching or shooting something. Even though Sam liked to read, the task at hand seemed no less intimidating because of his enjoyment of the activity. He just hoped that his brother was getting something from the elves that could help, and that he wasn't basically hiding away from his responsibilities. Avoiding walking so that he wouldn't have to hear his shoes ring. Maybe it was a bad idea to leave Dean unattended.


	7. Big Bad

"You have a café?"

"Of course we have a café. Even elves get breaks, you know?" Holly put two cups down at the table where they were sitting, outside of the café. "Here, drink it."

Never one to just drink something that was handed to him, Dean brought the cup to his nose and smelled the liquid. It was pleasant, but it was unlike anything that he had ever smelled before. "What is it?"

"Tree sap." She watched as Mistletoe put the cup back on the table just as quickly as he had picked it up. "What? You've never had it before?"

"I can safely say that I have never, ever, had liquidated tree sap before in my life. And, I would really like to keep it that way."

Holly looked at him with puzzlement, "I don't understand it. This is the most popular drink here. Everyone loves Tree Sap. They don't have this where you come from?"

"No. They don't have it where I come from."

"Where do you come from, Mistletoe?"

Dean smirked, "Let's just say… from another world." He was quite good at telling lies that weren't exactly lies.

"But your name, and your brother's name, they fit with the theme that all the elves here have…"

"The custom of naming elves after Christmas themes is quite popular everywhere. Our parents were believers in that." Speaking of themes, Dean had taken the time to look around the little shop. If the people in Alaska were considered overkill with their holiday decorum, then the people at Santa's Workshop were over-overkill. But, how could Dean expect any less from creatures whose entire purpose seemed to be around the holiday? In that way, Dean pitied them. Though it was not unlike he and his brother. At least they had some variety. And, they didn't have to wear shoes with bells. Most of the time…

Holly continued to be enticed by the stranger who had come into her life. Every time she learned something about Mistletoe, it seemed like she didn't learn anything at all. Just one unknown after another. Eventually, she hoped, she would find a way to unravel that mystery. Little steps first, though. With that in mind, Holly gently nudged the cup forward, "How do you know you won't like it until you try it?"

"I'm not one of those people who needs to try something to know. I just have a feeling. That's enough for me."

"Come on, please? For me? If you don't like it, then I won't make you drink any more. I promise."

Damn her. If there was one thing that Dean was unable to do it was throw Sammy to the curb. If there was another thing that he was unable to do, it was deny a pretty lady a simple request. "All right. A sip. For you." Hesitantly, Dean picked up the cup and, looking into the amber colored liquid, he tipped the cup over just enough so that it would go down his mouth. The taste flooded his buds before he swallowed, and he just blinked a few times.

"Well?" Holly asked, anticipating his ultimate verdict.

"It was good." Dean was utterly shocked by his answer. He had drank sap from a tree, and liked it? Did that fat man's spell do something to his taste buds? It wouldn't surprise him. But, as long as he was stuck as a midget, he would make the best of it. "Thanks, Holly. You've opened my eyes to something."

"I'm glad."

Sensing that it was as good a time as any to begin his job, as instructed by his brother, Dean began to lightly pepper the girl with inquires. If he was going to ask elves questions, why not start with the pretty ones? "So, how long have you been working in the factory?"

"Two hundred years."

"You're two hundred years old?!" Dean almost spat out the sap that was in his mouth when she answered, but forced himself to swallow it. Dick Clark would kill to be an elf.

"Of course not!" Holly stated. "We're not old enough to work until we're at least one hundred years old."

"You don't look a day over one hundred and ninety five." Corny? Yes. But Dean was willing to bet that elves weren't big on flirting. Something about their work ethic. So, with that in mind, Holly wouldn't realize how stupid the line was.

"There's something about you… something…" Holly's comment was interrupted by a sight she never wanted to see, though she had been forced to endure it before.

"Holly?" Dean looked at the girl, "Holly? What is it?" Finally following her look of sheer terror, Dean turned his head over his shoulder. It became obvious what she was so afraid of. "What the hell is that?!"

As the wave of darkness covered the workshop a siren went off, and the elves started to panic. What was once formerly a fine tuned working force had quickly regressed into what amounted to a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off. There was screaming, so much screaming. The elves that were inside the café piled out, leaving only Dean and Holly at the table.

"Holly?" Dean looked at the girl again and saw that she was frozen in terror. He grabbed her hand and brought her to the ground. "I need you to stay down here, okay?"

"Mistletoe, what…"

"Just stay here. I need to know that you're going to be safe. I have to try and find out what I'm up against."

"No, you don't understand! That thing… look!"

Dean looked at the cloud, stunned by what he saw. It was not just a cloud. It was somehow taking form. A blackened airy hand pounded down onto the snow, sending a shockwave that sent Dean to his knees and knocked the table over the railing. The clawed fingers of the creature swiped left and right, sometimes hitting elves, sometimes nothing but air. The screams only heightened and the cloud crept towards them.

Instinctively, Dean grabbed Holly by the arm, pulling her up and practically dragging her with him. But she was so terrified that her feet weren't working. If anything, she was slowing them down. "Come on, Holly, we have to…" before he could finish, he just heard her scream. A split second to react was all he had before he pushed her out of the way, taking the full force of the swipe and being knocked the ground. For a second he could see clearly, and then he could see nothing at all.


	8. Aftermath

The warmth awoke him, causing him to shift. He could feel the covers keeping his body in place, and he hated that. He wanted to squirm. He needed to squirm.

"Mistletoe?"

That voice… it caused him to pry his eyes open. "Sa…"

Sam hushed his brother. One, because he didn't want Dean to speak. Two, because their cover couldn't be blown. Not now. He had seen the full extent of what they were up against. And to say that the thing was terrifying would be an understatement. A cloud beast that was alive? "Don't try and talk, okay? Just stay right there and get your strength back?"

"How… how long?"

"Just a few hours. You're a lot more resilient then expected." An attack like that on their human forms probably wouldn't go as well. Who knew elves were tougher? "We're in the doctor's office right now." And, with a shrill moment of horror, Sam completely understood why the elves needed a doctor.

It was horrible. A moment that he would never want to see again, but knew he probably would. Tinsel knew what had happened, though Sam was utterly confused. By the time they were both out in the open it had stopped, leaving only the wreckage of the attack. They both rushed to do what they could to help, and it was Sam who saw his brother slumped over in the snow. He broke cover himself, crying out his brother's true name, but luckily, in all the commotion, nobody noticed. And, though Dean would never know, Sam shed a few tears over his brother's unconscious form, privately cursing himself for putting Dean in danger.

"Your brother is awake, I see?"

"Yes, Doctor. He is." Sam moved out of the way. "Mistletoe, this is Doctor Jolly. He's been looking after you and everyone else injured in the attack…"

"Everyone else?" Dean looked around and saw other beds filled with elves, their family and friends surrounding them. "Holly… is she…"

"Holly is fine," Doctor Jolly stated. He knew all the elves by name and face. He was there when most of them were born, after all. "She was actually here a little while ago. Told me what happened. You're quite the hero."

"You'll find that my brother is often quite the idiot when it comes to making hasty decisions, Doctor," Sam mused. But, he would have done the same thing for anyone near him.

"Well, it meant one less bed being occupied here, and we were filling up as it is. Each time that thing strikes it just hurts more and more people. I should check on the other patients. Mistletoe, you should just rest and recover your strength. You didn't take any major damage, but you were knocked unconscious."

"Sure thing, Doc. Thanks." Dean gave a slight smile of appreciation before the doctor walked away. "That thing… it was horrible, Jingle." He wanted to call him Sammy so much. It just felt wrong not to use that name, especially since he was hurt. Jingley wouldn't work, it just sounded stupid. "There was nothing I could do. Why did it leave?"

"Santa came out. He used his magic to send it away. It took a lot out of him, though. Some of the elves had to help him back to his house. I would have gone… but he knew I needed to be with you." Changing the subject to something more pleasant, Sam made a lighthearted quip, "Leave it to you to find a girl in any situation…"

Dean laughed, "You could learn something from me, little brother. Do you want me to see if she has a sister?"

"Not right now."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ever the prude. I don't know. There's just something about her. Something I can't put my finger on." A second wave of fatigue collided against his already weary body, sapping what little strength he had. Dean closed his eyes, and they remained closed.

Sam sighed in relief, putting his brother's wet cloth back on his forehead. "Get some rest," he whispered. Sitting in a chair once more, Sam grabbed the book from the windowsill and continued to read. There had to be something they could do to beat that thing. It had hurt his brother. Sam was more motivated to stop it than ever.

Hours passed. Hours where he sat there, in silence, reading up on his history. He missed the laptop. It was more his element. But the internet could lead to a lot of false information. A book that chronicled Santa's lifetime, written by an elf? That was a much more reliable source. Even still, it just seemed out of place. Maybe the entirety of the situation was getting to him. Maybe, because of the fact that he was the one who was okay and his brother was injured just hit him the wrong way. It had happened before. And, if they won, it would happen again. But Dean was his big brother. He was supposed to be the one that always came out on top. Sometimes Sam hated that attitude that Dean took, and he took it quite frequently, but there was little that Sam wouldn't give to just have that part of his brother back instead of the still, silent figure that was unconscious on the bed.

The other elves barely paid him little attention, aside from the doctor. They were all too preoccupied with their own loved ones. Sam observed them. Partly as a way to rest his eyes from looking at the same book for an extended period of time, and partly to take his mind off of his own similar problems. There were tears that streamed down their childlike faces, and he realized that even though they appeared to be people who were mercifully spared from the horrors of what could happen to the people they cared about, they were not immune. Nobody was. Elf, human, demon. Everyone understood what it felt like to lose someone. Or almost lose someone. Some just took it better than others.

At Dr. Jolly's insistence, Sam took a break from keeping vigil over Dean. Everything was going to be okay. Sam knew that. He had seen his brother awaken, if only for a little while, and Dean didn't complain about pain or do anything in a similar fashion. He was fine. Sam believed it. He just couldn't convince himself not to worry. He left his brother, easily the most important person in his life, in the care of someone that he barely knew. But it was because nothing had changed. They still had to find a way to help the people who needed their help. And, with Dean incapacitated for however long it was, the entirety fell on Sam's shoulders. Big brother wasn't able to watch his back at that moment. In a way, it was scary.

Sam plodded through the quiet surroundings of the elf village. Nobody was saying anything. Most of the elves were in their homes, recovering from the attack mentally if not physically. The scant few who were outside barely tore their eyes away from the ground to look at him. And those eyes that did meet his own all showed the same thing: a degree of desperation and hopelessness. He needed to help them. It was the only thing that he felt he could do. The problem he had was seeing how he could help them, since he had no clue.

His journey to his destination took him into the workshop again. It was mostly desolate. There were a few who continued to work. Mostly those who wanted to look at it as a distraction from what had happened. Sam knew many people like that. In a way, both he and his brother were not unlike the elves who continued to work. Even when everything seemed like it was horrible, like there was nothing they could do, they found a way to keep on doing what they were supposed to do. Sometimes it was easier than other times. When it was the two of them together it was a lot easier than when it was just Sam by himself.

Santa's private residence was his ultimate destination. He had seen the way that the attack took a lot out of the man, and he wanted to make sure that Santa was going to pull through. If the target was Santa, then maybe the monster could have gotten exactly what it wanted. Santa needed to be okay. Sam needed him to be okay. Not because of some childish belief where he needed Santa to be real, but because he didn't want everything to be for naught.

The technicalities were unknown to him, though he could gauge what they probably were. The rules would almost assuredly state that Sam could not enter Santa's private chambers. In spite of the fact that Sam Winchester was usually quite good at following rules, he tossed protocol out and opened the door. The room was expansive. Eloquent in its own way. Dean would hate the style, since it seemed like someone had eaten an entire Christmas display and then exploded inside the room. But, for a man who was the embodiment of the holiday, it certainly fit.

Like the hospital before it, Santa's bedroom was still and quiet. There was the sound of the crackling fireplace, but that was it. A female figure sat at the end of Santa's bed, and Sam instantly knew that it was Mrs. Claus. He tried to be quiet as he walked up to her, but the bells made silence utterly impossible. Even though she was aware of his presence, she never took her eyes away from her husband. It made Sam wonder if his mother did the same thing when she was still alive. When John would come home, injured from a battle. If he knew anything about his mother, about the kindness that she displayed, then he was certain that she did.

"How is he?" Sam asked, his height disadvantage barely permitting him to see over the edge of the high rise bed, and, from what he could see, Santa's back was turned.

"Tired." Her voice was very quiet, almost a murmur. Her reddened eyes gave away that she had been crying. Judging by the shade, she had been crying a lot. Not that anyone could fault her. "Why are you here, Jingle?"

"I came to check up on him, that's all." Sam stated defensively. "I'm here to help him beat this. I've been looking into his history, trying to find a link between the thing that just attacked and him. So far, I haven't gotten anything. If he was awake, I could ask him some questions. Hopefully the answers would piece things together."

"I wish I could tell you when he was going to wake up, but the truth is that I don't know. It's odd… he's never been out for this long before."

Sam was going to just nod his head in agreement, but something that she said caused him to do a double take. "Wait a minute. Before? What do you mean?"

"That thing has come here before. Kris has always been able to beat it back. It takes a lot out of him each time, but this is the longest he's been like this."

"When was the last time that it struck?"

"I don't see how that's important right now."

"Every little bit of information helps, Mrs. Claus." Sam tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, and it worked for the most part, but he hated it when people wouldn't give away simple answers that could be hugely important. "Please, when was the last time that this happened?"

"I don't know for sure. A couple of weeks before you and your brother came here. I figured you knew that. I figured that the reason he sent for the two of you was because of that thing."

It struck twice? That was something that he did not know. And he needed to know more. "Does it come often?"

"Sometimes it doesn't come at all," she answered. "I've been married to him for years, Jingle, and there are times when I don't see that creeping cloud thing… and there are years when I do. He tells me not to worry about it. But if he has been hurt like this, how can I not worry about it? The man is my husband. More than that, he's Santa Claus. I know how much he means to children around the world. I don't want that to be taken away from them."

He gently reached over and touched the top of her hand. The contact was the only thing that made her pry her eyes away from her husband onto the little elf. "You did great, Mrs. Claus. Really, you did. That information might be just what I needed to help make this problem go away." And maybe it would mean nothing at all. But if it made her rest a little easier, Sam certainly did not mind lying. Sometimes a lie was the only thing that could keep people going. It was sad, but true.


	9. Hero's Reward

Eyes fluttered open once more. They were still hazy, but as he lifted his head, he could feel a distinct lack of stabbing pain all around his body. Certainly a plus in his mind. No wave of dizziness, either. Maybe it was all just a dream. Some sick, twisted dream that had lasted far too long. A gentle touch of his ear robbed him of his denial far too early. Dean looked around for his brother. Nothing.

"You're awake again?" Doctor Jolly asked as he walked by. Mistletoe was the sole remaining patient out of the victims. The others had recovered and been taken back to their homes to get some more rest. What that meant about Mistletoe was unknown to Doctor Jolly at the time. Either the elf's body was not as tough as the others, or he had taken a much more massive hit and it required more time to recover. He kept his observations to himself. No reason to rile the patient. "That's good. How do you feel?"

"Where's my brother?"

"Jingle left. I told him that if he just kept on staring at you for hours he would drive himself crazy. He needed a break. I don't know where he left, but knowing him, he'll be back. You should feel fortunate, you know? To have a brother that dedicated to making sure that you're okay. Big brothers are like that, I suppose."

"I'm the big brother," Dean stated, somewhat miffed at the age mix up. Nobody could steal the fact that he was the firstborn from him. Nobody.

"I'm sorry. I just figured that since he was taller…"

"The irony isn't lost on either of us, Doctor," Dean mumbled.

"You still haven't told me how you feel, Mistletoe." A quick change of subjects was the best way to go about it. "Are you in any pain?"

"Not really. I'm a little sore. Mostly in my stomach. It was where that thing hit me, though. It hasn't come back, has it?"

"No. Santa expelled it for the time being. No telling when it will be back. It usually stays away for a lot longer. Came back sooner than we expected. Guess that's what we get for being too relaxed about the danger it poses to us."

"It's been here before?"

"Yes, it has. I'm surprised you didn't know that. You've been sent here to help find a way to get rid of it for good. I thought you would have done some more research."

"We weren't given that much information to go on, Doc," Dean retorted. "In fact, we were kind of forced into this whole mess."

"I see. Well, you're free to go if you feel that you're up to it. If you want to rest some more, you can do that as well. I would suggest that, if you do leave, you at least tell me where you're going. Should your brother come back I don't want to be the one to tell him that you left without any idea of where you could be going. He's intimidating when he's protecting you…"

"Nobody I'd rather have watching my back." Truth be told, it was almost impossible for Dean to look at his brother as anything more than his baby brother. Certainly, Dean had seen the strength that Sam had. In some ways, even stronger than Dean himself, but Sam would forever be Sammy to him. The kid who he could always bully into doing something. Nothing would change that, not even a change of species.

With the doctor in his office, Dean threw the covers off of his body and put his feet back on the ground. As he stood up he used the wall to brace himself, the slight trembling in his body causing those infernal bells to spring to life. "I'd forgotten about those damn things," he muttered privately.

"You… you're…"

He turned to face the voice, though he knew exactly who it was. "Holly…"

The female elf, overcome with emotion, made her way over to her hero and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing gently. "I was… afraid that… just glad that you're okay."

"I won't be okay if you don't let go of me," Dean replied, his voice distilled by the pain of having his already tender body gripped by an elf as tightly as she possibly could. Maybe it was because of the attack, or maybe Holly was just ungodly strong, but he felt it when she clutched onto him. And the feeling was hardly pleasant.

Holly immediately released her vice grip when she realized what he was saying. "I'm sorry! I didn't think about it. I just… when I saw you I didn't know what to think. I just had to hold you."

"I appreciate the gesture. I really do."

She looked up at him, "How can you be so smug about it? Mistletoe, you saved me! I didn't even know what to do when that thing came up and you pushed me out of the way, even though it hurt you instead."

If he had a nickel for every time he saved some damsel in distress, he would have a small fortune. It just came with the package deal. "I didn't do what I did because I expected something out of you, Holly. In fact, I didn't even really think about it. I knew what would happen if I didn't stop that thing from hurting you. I knew that you would get hurt. I couldn't let that happen."

"But you barely know me…"

"And why should that matter? Based on the little bit of time I've spent with you, I can already tell that you're someone worth pushing out of the way in case some giant cloud thing decides that it wants to take out some innocent people."

And, once more, Holly had found herself completely enamored by the mystery that was Mistletoe. Someone she barely knew was willing to put himself in danger for her. For nothing? Apparently. But, she would be damned if she didn't give him something. Cupping his tender, cherub-like face in her hands, she kissed him.

Dean was caught by surprise by Holly's sudden urge to kiss him, but he certainly didn't turn it down. Her lips were sweet, and he softly wrapped his arms around her body, embracing his reward for being a good elf in full. When she pulled away, it left him somewhat stunned. "What was that for?"

She smirked, "What was it you said? Maybe I just get the urge to kiss you when I'm under you because of your name?"

A throat cleared before Dean could answer, but the smile was all the answer that was needed. And, though slightly higher pitched than he would have liked, he knew the sound of that throat. He'd heard it, or a variation of it, many times. "Holly, this is my brother. Jingle."

Holly blushed, realizing she was caught in the act, even if said act was completely innocent. "I was just thanking your brother for what he did earlier."

"Saving people is what he does."

Sensing the slight hostility coming from Jingle, Holly planned her immediate retreat. "I should go, give you some time with your brother. It was nice meeting you, Jingle."

Sam waited for the door to shut, "You recover quick."

"With the right kind of enticement, you'd be surprised what I'm capable of." Hearing Sam's expected groan, Dean continued, "You shouldn't have been so hard on her, you know? She was just doing what she felt was right."

"We have more important things to deal with."

"You're just mad that I'm getting elf play and you're not."

"Well, if I had any doubt at all that you weren't back up to par after the attack, I guess our latest round would throw all that out the window, now wouldn't it?"

"Hey, I wasn't the one who stayed by a bed for hours…"

"No, you were the one who was in the bed."

"Thanks for sticking by me," Dean said. "I didn't know that you cared that much."

The slightest twitch came out of the corner of Sam's mouth, threatening to form a smile, but it was only there for a second. "While you were unconscious, I was able to do some research. Apparently, this thing isn't a new thing around the workshop. Mrs. Claus says that Santa's been battling it for years. Sometimes without even seeing it at all."

"The doctor said something about it coming around more frequently, too. Though, once is more than enough with that. What're you thinking?"

"I don't know." Sam shrugged before he checked to make sure they were alone. The doctor was in his office, the door closed. Even so, Sam made sure to keep his voice low. "I just wish that I knew why my vision barely kicked in. If this has been a constant thing, why didn't anyone try and stop it before? Like you and dad…"

"Because dad wouldn't have believed that Santa was real either, so the idea that he was being attacked by some dark cloud thing would have just made him laugh. Only reason we're here is because of you."

"You weren't able to find out anything from the elves before the attack?"

"They like to drink the sap from trees. Don't look at me like that. It's actually good."

"She made you try it, didn't she?"

"Hey, if it got me some points, why complain? I just don't think they're going to give us a lot of information on this…"

Sam nodded. "It has to be linked to Santa. It just does." Maybe if he believed in it enough it would be true. Hopefully.


	10. Bookworms

The words had long since become little more than blurred blobs that all looked the same to him. "I hate this. You know I hate this. You know how much I hate being part of the research team. I thought this is why you went to college, because you liked to read and stuff."

"I know you hate this, and, for what it's worth, I'm sorry." It seemed like he had a running track of doing things that he knew his brother would loathe. Going to Alaska. Going to North Pole, Alaska. Getting sucked into some plot that made them elves. And now, helping read the chronicles of Santa Claus. When all was said and done, Sam had no doubt in his mind that he would owe his brother a whole lot of favors. And, if Dean was Dean, he would collect on them. One way or another. "But I went to college because I wanted something more from life. You know that."

"Sometimes you just can't help what you're born into, Sammy." Their codenames were dropped, since they were alone. Work had halted completely. Most of the elves were asleep, or trying to sleep. It was clear to see that even though they had endured the attacks before, each time it left a little mark on their psyches. The younger elves, few and far between though they may have been, were clutched to their parents. Another universal idea, apparently. Mommy and Daddy would protect you. Too bad it, like most universal solutions, only worked for so long.

"I know that now," Sam said softly. He had never forgotten what had happened to his mother. He had never forgotten that there was a darker world out that. Nor had he truly fooled himself into thinking that being away from his family somehow made him immune to that darkness. But, the longer that he was away, the safer that he felt. Almost as if nothing could touch him. When Jess died, he knew how badly he screwed up. And, he knew that he couldn't escape his destiny. Even so, it took the death of his father to truly embrace it. Maybe because a part of him felt like he was the third wheel. With John gone, there were only two wheels left. And Dean, strong as he was, couldn't handle it all by himself.

"Times like these are about the only times I wish I was more of a nerd like you." Even when John was with him, Dean somehow managed to avoid being the one that did most of the research. It was like in his contract or something. That unspoken vow.

"Just do what you can, all right?" Sam requested simply. "Tinsel was nice enough to let us take the books on Santa out of the library so that we could keep on researching all night."

"Maybe this would be easier if the book didn't weigh as much as we do," Dean stated bluntly. "I don't see why we couldn't just go back to the hotel, full sized, and do all of this there."

"I'm not even sure these books can go outside of this place, Dean. There could be some magic protecting them, and if we tried to take them out they could just end up back here, or worse, they could be destroyed. These are our best shot at finding an answer. Besides, what if that thing comes back? Do you really want to know that you were away when you could have done something?"

"Like get smacked and knocked out? That made me feel really helpful."

"You saved that girl, didn't you? What would have happened if you weren't there?"

She probably wouldn't have even been in the situation to begin with. But Dean kept that thought to himself. "Okay, you win. You're such a damned boy scout sometimes, it sickens me. Wouldn't hurt you to be a little bit selfish from time to time."

Sam ignored his brother's observation about his persona. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe he was too much of a good guy. But if his brother believed that he was truly incapable of selfishness, then Dean was a fool. Sam was selfish. He just wished that he wasn't at times.

"Hey…" Dean's eyes scanned the words that were on some random page, "that's weird…"

"What is it?" Sam asked, putting his book down and leaning over to get a better look at whatever it was that Dean had discovered.

"I don't know. It might be nothing. It's just, this part right here says something about how Kristof, that's Santa, right?" Sam gave an affirmative nod before Dean continued, "Before he became the fat man in red, he had to have everything purged from his soul that wasn't pure. What does that mean?"

Sam gave it some thought, "He was a human before he became Santa. That much he was able to tell me himself, and the books state the same thing. Human beings are capable of a lot of different emotions. Some are good. Some aren't. And for Santa to be who he is, he has to be nothing more than superhuman. Capable of doing nothing but good. I guess, to fit the bill, he had to get rid of whatever was still in him that didn't meet the criteria."

"That means that he's even a bigger bleeding heart than you are. Good thing I sent you to talk with him, isn't it?" Dean grinned, "You know how much those holier than thou people piss me off."

"Everyone pisses you off."

"Not necessarily," Dean countered. "Quiet people… I like them."

"We should keep reading," Sam suggested. Dean's sudden interest really wasn't something that they needed to waste. After all, in the particular area in which they were participating, any interest on the part of his elder brother was a small miracle.

One good thing about the workshop and its surrounding areas was the fact that it was not archaic. Neither brother was exactly sure how Santa and company were able to have electricity and the like without power lines and those things that seemed so commonplace in the human world. It could have been something that they just didn't see, or it could have been something that they would never understand. Even though they were more aware of the things that were kept from most people, it did not make them experts. There was plenty they did not know. Things that they would eventually learn. And things they would never learn at all.

Time plodded along at an almost unbearably slow pace for Dean. "It's amazing how much of this stuff translated into the mythology of Santa, you know?" Usually, there was a lot that was omitted. But with Santa, they were on the money with a lot of it. "Sam?" Dean looked over his shoulder and saw that his brother was not actively ignoring him. Far from it. Sam had just managed to finally fall asleep, his cheek pressed against a page of the open book. Dean had no clue how long his brother had been asleep, but it made sense that Sammy would knock out first. After all, Dean had hours of sleep after the attack, and Sam stayed up. Worry took a lot out of a person. He knew that. The times when Sam was actually hurt, unconscious? Those were among the worst times that Dean had ever endured. "Sleep well, Sammy. You earned it."


	11. Stables

Without the warden to tell him that he needed to keep on reading, Dean closed the book quietly and gently pushed himself away from the table. They were staying in Santa's home, at the fat man's behest. Lacking anything else to do, but not yet fatigued, Dean found himself drifting along in the elf village.

Sounds, mysterious sounds that he could not exactly make out, caught his attention. The last time that he had followed a mysterious sound it had led to the whole adventure that they were suffering through, but that had to be the worst of it. There were scant few things in the world that he could think of that would be worse than the fate that he was forced to endure. There was that fairy scenario that he had concocted, but, utterly flaming attire aside, faeries just weren't part of Santa's motif.

A cobblestone pathway (regrettably, not yellow bricks) eventually greeted his feet, allowing the bells to fully unleash their sound, no longer forced to be muffled by the snow. It was a much longer pathway than he would have expected, but it was quiet and very out in the open. He liked that. A mixture of scents filled the air. Pine, and some other things as well. They were familiar, but he couldn't place them completely. Finally, a building came into view. Not really a building, though. Dean's eyebrow rose, "Stables?"

The door was partly open, and there was a light shining from the crack. Dean pushed it open a little bit more so that he could squeeze in, the door barely making a sound. Snorting sounds filled his ears. "What the hell is this place?" As he walked, he came face to face with exactly what they were used for, greeted by large antlers and a very unbecoming face. "Woah!" Dean jumped back, but he was unable to stop staring at the creature. "Reindeer… of course. It just had to be reindeer."

The reindeer, presumably male because of the antlers, continued to stare at Dean. "Hey there, big guy. You and the rest of your buddies sure are noisy, aren't you? Guess you can't help it though… I mean, you're stuck in here while everyone else is out and about in the world. Doesn't seem fair. You're just expected to do one thing, and one thing only. Barely able to let yourself have any fun. I can understand that."

Drawn to the creature because of some strange sense of kinship, Dean walked forward until he was scant few inches away from the reindeer and he slowly reached out with his hand. The creature lifted its snout, Dean's fingers automatically brushing against the nostril of the animal. He pulled his dampened hand away and wiped it on the outfit. "Yeah… you're a lot like a horse. I don't try to touch them, either."

The animal seemed to be trying to tell Dean something. His eyes continued to look at Dean, and then drift over to the right. Finally, after a few cycles, Dean took the hint. He followed the reindeer, and saw a bucket. "Oh, I get it. You're hungry, aren't you? Okay, I can fix that." He made his way over to the bucket and saw that it was filled with grain. "This is the stuff you eat, right? I don't see any chickens around here… it must be. Here you go," Dean titled the food into what he hoped was where the food would be put so they could eat. If not, it would suffice. "Eat up. No need to thank me. Just try to hold all that food in your stomach until I leave, would you?" As he watched the creature eat, a thought popped into his head, "Man, Jeff Corwin would kill to be in my shoes right now." Come to think of it, if it meant getting the damned things off his feet, Dean wouldn't argue.

"I thought I heard someone else here."

Dean turned around, "Holly? Hey…" was she following him? Wouldn't be the first time he had a stalker. Were elves capable of such things? "What're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

He nervously rubbed the back of his head with his hand, "Yeah… yeah, I guess you could. Blitzen was just hungry, thought I would feed him."

"That's Dasher."

"What? No, this guy clearly looks like a Blitzen to me. Everything about him screams Blitzen, not Dasher."

Holly snickered, "You've been here… what? A day? Two? I've been here for hundreds of years. I think I know the difference between Blitzen and Dasher. I also know that Blitzen is a female…"

"But, the antlers…"

"All the reindeer that pull Santa's sleigh have antlers, to give them a feeling of uniformity. If you don't believe me, I can show you what makes a boy reindeer and a girl reindeer."

"Oh, no, I believe you. It's just… I always thought they were all guys."

"Four and four. Males on one side, females on the other. Dasher seems to have taken a liking to you."

"We understand each other… once you get passed the whole name thing… and gender…" Dean looked at the reindeer sympathetically, "Sorry about that, Dasher."

"Another part of the mystery, I suppose." Holly mused.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything about you, Mistletoe. I just… I don't get it. I wish I did. I wish I understood you better. I want to understand you better, but it seems like there are just so many unanswered questions I have about you."

"I'm an enigma."

"Don't brag about it," she scolded him in as polite a way as she possibly could. "If you don't let people get close to you, if you don't let people understand who you are, then how are you going to ever end up with someone?"

"Some people find that alluring about me. Part of my mystique."

Holly rolled her eyes, "And some people just find it infuriating." She turned her back to him and began to walk away.

"Hey, Holly, wait!" Dean called out to her and rushed towards her. "You never did tell me what you were doing here. Is it part of your job to feed them?"

"No, I just like to be here. I've always enjoyed spending time with the reindeer, ever since I was a child. And they like the attention. It isn't that they're really ignored… it's just, we have so much other stuff we have to do, especially right now, that we don't give them the time they deserve. I try and spend a little bit of time with them as much as I possibly can."

"That's sweet of you." It was something Sammy would do. If they ever got a puppy, Sam would always be the one to take care of it. "I bet they appreciate it."

"Plus, this is my favorite place…"

"You… have a fondness for the smell or something?"

"It's just quiet out here," Holly said simply. "You know, like you can do anything out here, and nobody will be the wiser. I've spent a lot of time out here at night, just looking up at the stars and the Aurora. Thinking."

"Thinking?" That was an odd thing to say. "Thinking about what?"

"A lot of things, depending on a lot of factors. Tonight," she turned her beautiful crystalline eyes to Dean, "tonight I was thinking about you."

"Good thoughts, I hope."

"Depends." She turned her head down, like she was unable, or unwilling, to meet Dean eye to eye once more. "I don't feel like I should be attracted to you. To someone I've barely met. But I am. I don't know why, but I am."

Dean was silenced for a moment. Unable to say anything. Could he really let her fall for him? He was different from her, in so many ways. He may have looked like he could play the part, but there was almost nothing about him that was real. "You're very attractive too, Holly. But sometimes, there has to be more. There has to be passion. I don't think we have that."

Holly once more turned her eyes up and placed a hand on his chest. "I want to find out if we do or not. Don't you, Mistletoe?"

He wanted to pull away. He knew that it would be best if he just pulled away. But, as she continued to move her hand down his chest, right to his waist, he stopped thinking about what was the right thing to do. That was the way that Sam was. Dean was the kind of person who did what he wanted to do. Let the aftermath be what it was. He wanted to live in the moment.

She moaned as his warm lips pressed against the pale flesh of her neck, her pulse throbbed. Holly shut her eyes for just a moment to let the rush collide against her, but she didn't want to have her eyes closed the whole time. Her fingers moved back up in a much quicker fashion until they were at the cuff of his shirt. She ripped at it until the buttons gave way, revealing the slightest amount of skin. Beautiful skin.

Dean released his hold and took a step back. Not as a recoil, but as merely a necessary step in what was to happen. His shirt was tossed to the ground, the cold air doing little to chill the flame of passion that seemed to spark between the two of them. Holly smiled in approval and he moved back to her, gently hoisting her up as their lips locked together.

They fell backwards, down onto a soft mound of hay that was used as a would be carpet that the reindeer could walk on. Dean took control of the situation, shifting his weight until he was atop Holly. He cupped her breasts for a moment before he moved his hands down and found the small indicator where the short ended and the pants began. Digging with an almost reckless abandon, Dean lifted the shirt up. Elves, apparently, did not use bras. Made the job easier.

Holly looked at the almost complete stranger that was right in front of her eyes. Beautiful. That was the only way that she could describe him. Beautiful. "I'm underneath you again, Mistletoe. What's that mean?"

Fully embracing his previously loathed identity for their undercover operation for the first time, Dean did exactly what his name implied, kissing Holly, starting at the navel and then moving his way up until he was once more locking lips with the alluring elf. The sounds of the reindeer had long since drown out, only the sound of their actions were heard. And, though his name implied only kissing, Dean knew that he would do a lot more.

Holly's hands again touched his now fully exposed waist, but rather than stopping, they continued to shift downward. There were no buttons on the pants of their clothing, just tight nylon, and that was done away with. Anything that was left in her that would try and sway her from her ultimate choice was ignored. Only the passion mattered to either of them in that moment.


	12. Smooth Moves

Night turned back in to day. And, as Dean had so keenly observed, there was a severe lack of chickens to call forth the beginning of yet another day. A day that could quite possibly be their last. Certainly, there was the chance that the dark cloud would not make an appearance, but as Christmas loomed ever closer, the chances of a peaceful day became slimmer and slimmer.

Sam's eyes gently opened as the sun made its way through the curtains in the room where he had fallen asleep while doing research. His cheek brushed against the extremely old paper of the book, hardly giving the comforting feeling that one would get from a pillow. Discomforting was the best way to describe the sensation. At least, by the time he pried his face from the book, he did not get a paper cut.

Though his eyes were still encumbered by the hold of sleep, Sam could vaguely make out the surroundings in the room. There were beds, but both were unoccupied. "Dean?" Sam weakly called out his brother's name, wondering if he was still around. An opened book next to him showed that Dean had been there at one point or another, but his whereabouts were completely unknown at that point to Sam. For a moment he panicked considerably. Dean had already went up against the thing that they were entrusted to beat, and that encounter had hardly went smoothly. Knowing his bullheaded elder brother, Dean would charge headfirst into the battle yet again, if only to prove that he was anything but chicken.

The rapid motion of him getting up from his position face first on the book made him a little lightheaded, forcing him to grab the chair next to him for support. In that time, he was able to rationalize his theory. The last time the attack happened there was a siren. And screaming. So much screaming. If it happened again there would be no way that Sam could possibly sleep through it. His heart rate lessened back to a normal pace, but it did not solve the immediate remedy to his issue: where exactly was his brother?

Stepping outside of the room, Sam hurried towards the door, only to find himself right next to Santa.

"Oh, Jingle. Good morning," unable to know where all of his people were at that moment, Santa used the codename just in case there were any wanderers. Each day that passed meant that the cover was that much more important. A critical mistake could cost them all more than they wanted.

"Hello, Santa. Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm still a little tired," his words did not need to be said in order to convey his fatigue. It was in his eyes. They did not shine with the same intensity as they had before. "But, hopefully I won't have to deal with that thing again today, right?"

"Yes, hopefully…"

"Have you had any luck in finding a way to destroy it yet?" Santa hoped for good news. It would be such a waste if there was no progress made in the case.

"We continued to do some research on the matter. All we have right now are theories. But, that thing… the way it looked… do you think, do you think it was possibly the Demon that my brother and I have been against for so long?" The form it took was not unlike that of the Demon. And the goal of eradicating all hope certainly seemed to fit a motif.

Santa shook his head, "No, I'm afraid not, my friend. The Demon in question is pure evil, darkness like that leaves an unmistakable aura. This thing is strong, I can feel it, but it doesn't feel that strong. I'm sorry, but you won't be able to kill two birds with one stone in this instance."

"I guess it's better that way," after all, as far as Sam was aware, there was only one way to kill the Demon, and, through a barter for Dean's life, the Demon had the weapon that would do just that. Kind of hard to kill something when the only thing that would kill it was in its own possession. "You haven't happened to see my brother today, have you?"

"No. I thought you were both sleeping in the spare room for the night."

"I thought we were, too," Sam said casually, "but when I woke up he wasn't there."

"I see. I'm sure your brother is fine, Jingle. He seems like the kind of person who would find a way to occupy himself. Crafty little fellow, that one."

The sound of rustling could be heard as the slumbering figures continued to sleep side by side. Dean turned, his outstretched arm managing to rest in the spot between Holly's breasts. The feeling of his index finger gently brushing against her chest was enough to cause him to stir from his slumber. Although his vision was mostly filled by her hair, he could see the faintest outline of her face. And, even with that glimpse, it was clear to see that she was beautiful.

Dean reluctantly took his hand away from its resting place and carefully brought himself up with his arms. With a better view of Holly's face, he could safely say that she looked angelic , even more so when she slept. It seemed wrong for a creature old enough to be his great-great-great-great- grandmother could look so good, but it was the truth. And, if their romp through the hay was any indication, Holly had a lot of practice during her centuries of life.

A shadowy figure standing over her was enough to cause the smallest amount of fear to spark in her heart. She would never look at shadows the same way, not after what had happened. With a slight gasp, Holly opened her eyes and pulled her body back.

"Hey," Dean said softly, a hand running through her hair, "don't worry. It's just me."

She placed her hand over her heart, feeling the heightened pace caused by her panic. "I'm sorry… it's just, when I saw a shadow I thought that… that maybe it was that thing again."

He smirked, "You don't need to be afraid of that. At least not right now. It's just you and me. And the reindeer."

Holly took a moment to examine his naked body in silence. Her hands had caressed every facet of his figure, but even when she only looked at him with her eyes she was stunned by how well he filled out his form. Almost like a man who was much, much taller. Not that he was short by their standards, of course.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," Dean moved a little to the side, so his shadow was not directly over her eyes. "I just… I wanted to look at you while you were sleeping."

"Why?"

"I don't know… just because?" He really couldn't explain it. It was one of those things that were instinctively known, but difficult to put into words. Like the words were not enough, like they would fail.

"Good morning, everyone!" A voice boomed happily as a greeting to the reindeer. "I hope you had a pleasant night."

"Oh no," Holly whispered.

"Who is it?" Dean inquired, fighting every urge that he had to run out, stark naked, surprise the man, whoever he was, and knock him out cold. It wouldn't work, not if Santa's decree about violence was true.

"Stocking," her voice maintained the same soft, barely hearable tone. "He's the one who takes care of the reindeer. If he sees us like this…"

"Just get dressed," he whispered back. "Hurry! Let me do the talking."

Dean was able to get his outfit back on with great haste, as he had a lot of practice in the world of getting his clothes back on, and the fact that he was forced to wear some heinous elf outfit did very little to change that fact. Holly seemed to struggle, probably because of her nerves. Obviously, elves were more promiscuous than he would have given them credit for, but he was willing to bet that they really hadn't perfected the morning after routine.

"Hey there," Dean uttered as he walked away from the shelter of the board which acted as a shield. Luckily, it was built in proportion to the reindeer and not the elves, so Dean could stand without looking too obvious.

Stocking gave a puzzled look at the elf who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Good… morning?"

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here, aren't you?" Dean asked. "Yeah, I'm new here. Name's Mistletoe. The big guy asked me to come here from my home, so this whole place is kind of new to me. Only been here a few days, and it hit me that I've never seen reindeer before. Not the actual ones, you know? From the song and everything? On Dasher on Dancer…" the rest of the song was given in a horrible off cue voice. Nobody could say that Dean could carry a tune. But if it bought time, he wasn't above a little bit of humiliation. He was an elf, for God's sake. Didn't get much more degrading than that.

"Okay…" Stocking just wanted Mistletoe to stop singing. He would pay for Mistletoe to stop singing.

"Anyway, I always wanted to see them, you know? The famous ones. I met this girl, Holly, you probably know her. I asked her if she could show me where they were, and she did."

Holly finally came out of hiding, carrying a small mound of hay in her arms, "And then we decided that we would just help you get the day started, Stocking. It's very important right now that the reindeer are properly taken care of, right? A few more hands couldn't hurt…"

"I suppose not," Stocking said cautiously. "I appreciate all the help I can get. Holly, why don't you put the hay in each of their pens. I'll get them fed."

"And what about me?" Dean asked.

"There's a shovel over there."

"What do I do with the shovel?"

Stocking chuckled, "Reindeer have mouths to eat. They also have another part of the body that pushes all the stuff they eat out. I'll help you once I get done feeding them, but the sooner we get this done the better."

Dean groaned quietly to himself, but grabbed the shovel anyway. Picking up reindeer crap was hardly the way that he wanted to spend the morning after having elf sex. But if it was the payment he had to give for said elf sex, it was worth it. It was so worth it.

Sam had been further assured of Dean's safety when everything seemed to be going okay with the elves. He followed Santa into his office in the main workshop. A part of Sam, the part that Dean would have dubbed the boy scout, wanted to stick around and help the elves get their work done, but he knew where his priorities were. And, with Dean missing, hopefully trying to find some information out on his own, it meant that they could not split up.

Santa gently shook the snow globe that was on his desk. "I always found these things fascinating. I don't know why."

"They're pretty popular back home," Sam observed. So many shops that sold snow globes all year round.

"Your mother asked for one once," Santa stated. "When she was a little girl. She said she wanted a snow globe with penguins and snowmen. She was always a good girl, so I didn't have any problem fulfilling that request." He looked at Sam, who just sort of stared at him vacantly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned her."

"No, it's okay. I don't mind." He did mind, but he couldn't tell Santa that. Besides, it was kind of nice to hear something about his mother that he had never known before. Nobody told him she had been a fan of snow globes. So, in the end it was actually more helpful than anything else.

"She was a good girl, and became a better woman. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if what I'm doing is worth it…"

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen it all, Jingle," Santa said quietly. "I've seen children who start out bad and then turn out good, good children turn bad, bad stay bad, good manage to stay good… but it all ends in the same way. I just don't know if I should give them happiness that I know will only end."

"A little bit of happiness is worth it, isn't it? Better to be a little happy than not happy at all, right?"

"I suppose so." But the words that Sam said which were intended to comfort him did not exactly do what they were supposed to do. 

"Santa… while we were researching your past, my brother came across something interesting. It said that, before you became who you are, you had to purge yourself of any ill feelings and thoughts in order to fit the criteria needed to be the spirit that you became. Is that true?"

"Yes," Santa nodded. "My mother always said that I was a happy child, and that I was destined for something great. I just don't think anyone, even myself, really understood how much of an impact I would make, and for how long. Does that information help you at all?"

"I don't exactly know yet. Anything can help us. Even the things that don't seem like they're important. I just wish I could find my brother. He says that he hates doing this kind of stuff, but sometimes he's better at it than I am." More experience, even in a field that someone hated, would often beat out inexperience. But, in their case, they were depending quite a bit on luck, too.

"Well, if there is anything else I can help you with, you know you only need to ask."

"I know that." It was one of the few things that they had going for them, after all.


	13. Brothers Reunited

Everything was taken care of ahead of time. Stocking was, of course, grateful for the help. But, it took him far too long, in Dean's mind at least, to finally finish feeding the animals so that he could help get the pens cleaned up. Perhaps it would have been better if Stocking was named Molasses. People gave out molasses for a Christmas present, right? It would fit the motif, wouldn't it?

As the would-be-elf and his one night lover walked away from the seclusion of the stables, there was nothing other than the silence which kept them together. Maybe it was the smell. Magical world or not, animals still crapped, and said crap still smelled. And, given the fact that Dean had spent a lot of time around it, he really felt like he needed a shower or a bath. But how did an elf take a shower or a bath? Did they even do that? Luckily, as a Winchester, Dean had become accustomed to not bathing for an extended period of time. Certain luxuries in life, like cleanliness and, to a lesser degree, sleep, were viewed as accessories and not fundamentally important. To be fair, Dean had never been on a mission that required him to almost roll around in reindeer droppings… until now. However, to her credit, Holly didn't seem repulsed by the smell. She walked by his side, even if she refused to look at him.

"You freezing me out for a reason?" Dean asked. "I mean, I just saved our asses over there with that guy so that he wouldn't see us basking in the afterglow. And ever since then, you've just been quiet. Is everything okay with you?"

"I…" and she thought about lying to him. Saying that all was right in the world, but she couldn't. "I don't know, really."

"You're going to need to give me more to go with than that, Holly. I'm an elf, see the ears?" He touched the tips of his ears, pushing them forward as a display, and he still hated the way they felt. Though the human whom he had bedded seemed to enjoy them, and so did Holly. Girls, apparently, seemed to dig pointy elf ears. Who knew? "I'm not a mind reader."

"Did it…" there was a pause, a struggle. It wasn't easy for her, but she needed to have it come out. "Did it mean anything to you?"

"What? Having sex with you?"

"No, picking up reindeer poop…" she rolled her eyes, "of course I'm talking about the sex, Mistletoe. Did it mean anything to you?"

"I like you, Holly," and that was true. He liked many women, in a variety of ways. Sometimes, he even cared about the person who became a short-term lover, as was the case with Holly the elf. "You're very beautiful, and you're sweet. You're the kind of person who is really hard to forget about or dislike because you just have this aura around you that makes you likable."

"You have that, too."

"I do?" Dean asked, somewhat amazed. "Do you mind telling my brother that? He'd love to hear it." The look on Sammy's face when Holly proclaimed that there was something about Dean that made him likable? That would be the best Christmas present that Dean could ever hope for.

"You still haven't answered the question…"

"I didn't expect last night to happen," Dean began. "And, a part of me knew that it wasn't the right thing to do. But I wanted it. I wanted you." Maybe a part of it was because Dean had never had sex with an elf before, or in an elf body. He was all about exploring things in a sexual manner. But it was more than that, and he knew it. He wanted Holly because she was worth wanting. "I don't regret it. Not one moment of it. So, yes, I guess it meant something to me."

"It meant something to me, too," and the brief smile that was on her face quickly faded into a somber frown, "but that doesn't mean it's going to last, does it?"

"I don't follow you."

"You're different, Mistletoe. I know you're different. I can feel it."

Dean almost stopped in his tracks. Did she know? Was there something about the way that he had performed the night before that had given away the fact that he wasn't a true elf? Was he bad? No, he couldn't be bad… at least that was what his frail male ego needed to tell itself to feel good. "What do you mean? How am I different?"

"Because you're going to leave once this is all over. Santa asked you to come here from wherever you and your brother are from originally. And, once you help him beat that black cloud thing, you're going to leave. Unless you can't help him. In which case, it won't really matter what we did last night. We'll be dead. So, you see, either way, last night isn't meant to have any lingering impact."

"You're… not quite like most of the girls I've met before, Holly." It was refreshing. A girl without expectations, that wasn't a whore.

"Maybe that was why I wanted it as much as I did," she said. "Because, yesterday, it really hit me that every day here could be the last one that I have. I mean, I've always known that, deep down. But when I saw that thing coming for me, when you pushed me out of the way and got hit instead, I knew. I knew that it would be over, and it could be over in a snap. Besides, if I could have had anyone to be with, I'm glad that it was you."

"You're really scared about all of this, aren't you? Scared about what could happen. Scared that we might not win."

"Can you blame me?" Holly asked. "Look around you, Mistletoe. Everyone has that fear in their eyes. Even Santa. And he's the one who has always been strong. Always told us that there would be a way to fix things, to make them all right. That way we could keep on doing what we do, and keep children around the world happy. More than that… I'm not ready to die yet."

"You're not going to die, Holly," Dean grabbed her hand. "I pro…"

She shook her head, "Don't. Please, just don't. Don't try and make a promise that you really can't keep, even if you're doing it for the right reasons, just so that I could feel better for a little while."

"Okay," Dean wouldn't keep her in a sense of false hope if she didn't want it. "But I can assure you that I'm going to do everything that I can in order to make sure that you and everyone else keeps on ticking for a long time to come. Not a promise, just a vow to do my best. How's that sound?"

"Perfect," she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek gently. "Why don't you come back to my place? You look, and smell, like you could use a bath. My parents are both working at the factory right now."

"You live with your parents?"

"Of course. I'm too young not to live with my parents! They won't mind, though. I promise. Come on, let's go."

Dean allowed himself to be taken by the hand and led towards Holly's home. The woman still lived with her parents? All of a sudden, he felt like he was a teenager again. Or, at the very least, a pedophile. It was hardly a pleasant thought. Maybe the worst part about it was the fact that he still didn't regret anything that he had done. In fact, if given the chance, there was almost no doubt in his mind that he would do it again. Holly had said it best. They didn't really have that much time left, in case it all went south. What normal American male in his twenties wouldn't want to spend the last few days of his life engaging in some casual sex? Well, his brother, apparently. And, if Dean didn't know for a fact that Sammy wasn't, he would swear up and down that his little brother was gay. He just had an aversion to letting himself have fun.

Sam continued to flip through the pages of the books that he had gotten on loan. It would have been so much easier if his brother had been around. And yet, predictably, Dean was nowhere to be found when he was needed the most. Even more predictably, Sam continued to have some sort of foolish faith in his brother. Dean was the one who wanted the job more than anything else in the world. Sam might have been the one who vocally seemed to understand the weight of their situation, their birthright, but they both knew that, deep down, it was Dean who took it to heart. After all, Dean never ran away from it. Not like Sam, at least.

It wasn't easy, though. It was far from easy. All the research, and aside from theories, nothing concrete. It wasn't supposed to take that long. It was supposed to go quick. A simple operation. They were supposed to know what they were up against and how to beat it. Especially after days of trying to find out what it was. At least they had seen it. For all the good it did. And, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but damn his father for giving up the one thing that he knew would beat it. Whatever it was, the Colt would have worked. It would be worth a bullet, to save the world. Yet it lingered in the back of his mind, the true reason why his father did what he did. Why he gave up the weapon. It was for his brother. And Sam knew that John had made the right choice. Because he wouldn't be able to do it without Dean. He just couldn't do it without his brother.

"Is this what it was like for you, Sammy? When you were trying to be a college boy, studying it up, those all night study sessions, your face planted in a book for hours on end?"

"Dean!" Elation set in. His brother was okay. "Where were you? I woke up this morning and you were gone. Did you go and try to find something out? You should have woken me up, we could have done it together."

"It was better that I did it alone," the subtext was deliciously perverse in nature. Throw in the fact that their shower session had devolved into a replay of the night prior, just with a change of scenery, and the smirk on his face widened.

"What did you find out? Anything?"

"Nothing pertaining to the case, no."

"Are you sure? Because sometimes the little things that we think won't help do. And right now, every little bit of information might be that one thing that we skip. That we overlook."

"Sammy, just trust me okay. Nothing that I did, nothing that I found out had anything, anything to do with what we're up against."

"Okay…" Sam looked at Dean, an eyebrow risen because of confusion.

"I met the reindeer, though. You know that the females have antlers, too?"

"I thought they were all males…"

"Yeah, don't tell them that. They probably hate it."

"How'd you meet the reindeer?"

"I went for a walk, found the stables, they were there. Even fed one of them. It was odd, but not in a bad way."

"Animal Planet would be jealous."

"That's just what I said! Well, not really, but it all fell under the same umbrella." The urge to tell his brother of his true activities, if only as bragging rights, was strong. But Dean knew Sam extremely well. And he knew that his brother would just get upset about the fact that Dean had spent some time doing something that they both liked to do, when he should have been doing something that could help everyone involved. Goody-goodies were like that. "What about you? Anything?"

"I talked to Santa again…"

"Yeah?" Dean saw himself in the mirror as he walked around the room. His skin seemed to have a faint glow. Was it from the shower, or was it afterglow? Maybe it was both. "What'd he say?"

"He basically confirmed that his body was purged of all the negative emotions when he became Santa, like the book said."

"I wonder where it all went…"

"Where what went?"

"The emotions," Dean turned around to look at his brother, leaning against the dresser that was there. "I mean, one man, especially one man who was supposed to be as good as Santa was when he was just a human, couldn't possibly have that much negativity in their being, but where did it go? And, even if he's now something more than human… he still remembers what it's like to be one."

"It's a good question," Sam noted, somewhat dismayed by the fact that he had not been the one who had come up with it. "I wonder if he has the answer to it."

"Maybe he does. But that could be something that he doesn't know. Once they left his body, why would he care? Still, worth asking, I guess. Like you said, anything that we could go off of would be a good thing."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you…" Sam was at a loss for how exactly to go about asking what he wanted to ask, because it seemed so odd. "I don't know, you just look different."

"Showers work wonders for the body, Sammy. You should give it a try." So close, so, so close. And it threatened to burst inside of him. But he stayed silent. Points for not coming forth with it all. Massive points.


	14. Where It Belongs

Santa sat in his office, mulling over the list. It was something that he had to do, so close to the big day. If they managed to beat the thing, if they managed to save Christmas and hope, then he would want to be up to date on the lists and everything else. That was why the elves kept on working, why Santa was so adamant that things not be forced into a screeching halt. Things to keep their minds off of what happened. Not that it really worked. Though Santa was able to momentarily focus on other variables, it always came back to him, like a cloud of doubt. The pun was not lost on him, though it was unintended. But what other way could he describe the feeling that he had? He just wished that he knew a better way. He wished he knew how to forget it all. But it wasn't possible.

"Kris?" Shannon Claus walked into the office. One of the scant few who was allowed to walk in without a care in the world. Being married to the man had a certain amount of perks allotted to it.

"Oh," Santa looked up from the list. "Hello, darling. What are you doing here?"

"I thought you could use a hot cup of cocoa to calm your nerves and relax yourself a little bit." Shannon brought the tray over to the desk and put it down next to her husband, the smile never leaving her face. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you."

"Never," Santa dismissed the comment. "I look forward to every single moment that I have with you. You know that." He wrapped his fingers around the hoop of the cup and lifted it to his lips. "Delicious."

"I'm glad." Anything that she could do to relieve some of the stress from her husband was something that Shannon took with great joy. It was not a burden to her, it was something that she was proud to do. "What are you doing? Looking over the list?"

"Yes," he nodded. "You know how important it is, especially this close to the big day. So many children trying to do everything under the sun so that they can have their fates changed. And, for the most part, a few of them can manage to get a reprieve. Even better, some of them truly change for the better."

"Was I ever on the naughty list?"

He looked at her with some amazement, "Shannon… what kind of question is that? You know that you were always on the nice list. You're incapable of anything else. It just doesn't fit you."

She shook her head softly, "I'm human, Kris. I might be different now that I'm here with you, but in my soul I am still human. I always have been, I always will be. That means that I am able to make mistakes. I am able to have thoughts that are dark, to perform actions that are anything but bright and good. Nothing can change that. It is who I am. I just have to accept it, which I have."

"What was something you did that you think was bad?'

"You're Santa," she smirked. "Aren't you supposed to know?" It was almost like a test. Sort of like that game that Cliff and Claire played on the Cosby Show. Do You Remember, that was the name of it.

"Well, there was that time that you pushed your brother off the couch…"

"He deserved it!" The woman exclaimed in defense. "He wouldn't stop pinching me. He's lucky that the only thing I did was push him off the couch. That poker thing for the fireplace looked so appealing at that moment."

"What would you have done with it?" Santa asked, surprised by the brutality of his wife's words.

"Don't think like that!" She quickly shot back. "Maybe the idea of smacking him upside the head with the metal object passed through my mind, but I would have never done it. As annoyed with my brother as I was, I knew that he was still my brother, and I still loved him. But that's what I'm trying to say. I thought about it, for a split second. I didn't act on it, because I'm a good person inherently, but I'm human."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because sometimes you forget that a part of you is always going to be human, too." She laced her hand with his, "Kris, I know that you've been doing this for centuries. I know that the little boy who became the man who became Santa is so far in the back of your mind that you can't really remember it off the top of your head, but I also know that deep down, so deep that you probably don't even recognize it, is the humanity that you've always had."

"I see…" Santa remarked softly.

"No, I don't think that you really do." Who better to offer him insight than the woman who shared his bed? Who shared his life in so many ways? "You're afraid, and you don't know how to handle that, because you don't think that you can be afraid, that you're somehow above that. You're not. And that's okay. You're still Santa. You still do the things that you do. You still make children so happy. It doesn't make you any less of an entity if you just…"

Mrs. Claus and her speech was halted by the loud blare of the alarm. Instantly, Santa's mood switched. "Get to safety, Shannon. Don't go outside, I don't want this thing to hurt you. If I can, I'm going to do everything that I can to make sure it never lays a hand on you!"

"Kris!" She called out his name, but it was to no avail. The man was gone in a hurry. He probably heard her, but obviously ignored her. "Stay safe, Kris. Please, stay safe."

Sam and Dean ran side by side out of the residence as soon as they heard the alarm go off. It was the first time that they had been together when the entity struck, and though the Winchester brothers were finally united, they still had scarce ideas of how they were going to find a way to get rid of the menace. Doubt may have been in their hearts, but they ignored it.

Dean tried to keep his mind occupied on the matter at hand, but he knew what he was looking for. Or, more precisely who. His eyes continually scanned around for any sight of Holly. Be it her face or her hair, something that would tell him that it was her. It was hard, given all the elves that were running away and looking for shelter, for a way to escape the horror that they could not truly run away from.

Somehow, the cloud was even larger than it had been the day before. It covered the entire workshop in its darkness, and that made Sam uncomfortable. Was that the vision that he saw? The encroaching darkness that swallowed them all? Was it going to happen to them at that exact moment? Was it do or die time? If it was, then it was almost surely over, because they hadn't found a way to beat it.

"What are we going to do?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. Wait for the man in red to…"

Dean was interrupted as the mystically formed limbs lurked forward. "You've got a taste for me now, do you?" He taunted, trying to deflect the attention away from his brother. If they were going to die, Dean was going to be damned if he let himself die after his brother. That was the least he could do.

"Don't be stupid!" Sam called out. Enticing the big bad was never a good idea. But it was something that Dean had a habit of doing.

"We're already passed stupid," Dean remarked as he felt his body being pushed by a force, and heard the sound of his bells as the wind caused them to sound off in rapid fire. What the hell was it doing? He looked over his shoulder, his eyes barely able to open by the force, and saw Sam struggling to maintain his balance. Dean had the added benefit of a nearby structure to grip, but Sam? Sam was not nearly as lucky. And, the battle ended with his brother being flung back. "Sam!"

The wind halted as soon as it began, and Dean felt the strain on his body leave completely. "What? How?" And, even more amazingly, there was a light. A bright white light that surrounded him. The confusion was only heightened by the mysterious light.

"You should leave, Dean."

"Santa?" Dean looked at the man who appeared out of nowhere, his body glowing with the light, obviously caused by his magic.

"I'm sorry about this," Santa stated. "All of it. I'm sorry that I dragged you and your brother into this. It was my fight, and I've just made you two suffer because I was afraid of losing. I guess it's inevitable…" the strain on his body was immense, and his legs were shaking until he was dropped down to his knees.

Outside of the dome of light, Sam brought himself back up. The wind stopped, and he knew why. He could see the cloud doing everything that it could to break down the barrier that was there. He had seen it before. It was Santa. But, there was one obvious change in what had happened the day before. His brother was in there, too. Sam took the diversion and rushed towards the dome. "Dean!" But, rather than being able to go inside, he found that he could not. His fists crashed against it, all for naught.

Dean saw Sam rush the dome, but he could not hear his brother. He knew that attacking the dome was not a good idea, so he clearly mouthed the word 'stop,' looking directly at Sam, and it worked, his brother got the message. "I'm sorry, Sammy, I wish I had a better idea than this…"

"Why aren't you… leaving?" Santa wondered, his voice strained by the battle.

"Because my brother can't get in, and I'm going to assume that means that I can't get out. Besides, he believes in you. He always has. He claimed he didn't, but I'm willing to bet that deep down he always did. I'm not going to give you some stupid, uplifting speech, Santa, but I am going to tell you something: grow some."

Santa just looked over at the would be elf with bewilderment. Did Dean really believe that his words were helping? Because they weren't. And he needed his concentration, such as it was.

"I think I get it now," Dean began as he walked towards Santa. "There's a reason why this thing never showed up anywhere else. Why we have no record of it. Because it is solely a part of you. That stuff that you got rid of… those feelings of doubt and insecurity that they tried to purge from you when you became what you are, they had to go somewhere. They couldn't just be expelled completely. And they couldn't go into someone else… so where does that leave them? To linger… and grow."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the huge cloud you're fighting with everything that you have is just a part of you that you're refusing to accept. You're Santa Claus, but you're not God. You're a living, breathing, thinking, feeling creature. You're allowed to have thoughts and feelings that you might not feel work for you, but that's what makes you what you are. The longer you deny it, the worse it gets. You've been denying those things for how long? A millennium? That's a long time for this thing to build up. And the more it builds up, the weaker you get, the more you doubt yourself. Don't you see? Just accept it…"

"But I can't…"

"Why?" Dean asked. "Why can't you allow yourself to accept what is part of you? You can try and run from it, Santa, but it won't work out that well. It will only hurt you. I mean, look at my brother. He tried to run away from his history. He tried to run away from what he was, and deep down I wanted that too. I wanted Sam to have a better life than that. But it was stupid of us to think that he could avoid it. And it cost him. It cost him his girlfriend, just like it cost us our mother. It might b stupid, but if he would have accepted what was his lot in life he could have been spared that pain."

Santa heard what Dean was saying, at least a part of him did. But, in his mind, he was not focused on what Dean was telling him. He was thinking of the conversation that he had with his wife before the attack. How she offered him insight that he had never contemplated before. Adding that to what Dean said, it seemed to make sense. It was okay to have doubts. That didn't make him any less of a man. If anything, it made him more of one. The more he doubted himself the harder he worked. If things went by too easily it would just make him relaxed until he was useless. Yes, the cloud was a part of him, and the longer he fought it, the more it killed him. "All right…" Santa brought himself up. "You're right. I can't deny this anymore."

Dean watched as the white light evaporated into nothingness, and Santa just stood there, looking up at the cloud that was, as far as Dean theorized and hoped, just another part of him. "God," he whispered, "I hope this works."

Santa stood in place, trying to mask the fear that was in his heart. The cloud just drifted there for a long moment before it swirled and entered him. He gasped in pain and was thrown backwards, Dean rushed to his side and attempted to keep him up, but a man certainly could not be helped from falling by an elf for very long. It at least cushioned the fall.

He felt it go inside of him, and felt his body begin to convulse. All those feelings, they were scary to him, but they were not foreign. His wife was right, they were just a part of him that was located so far behind everything that he thought he needed to be that he had almost completely forgotten that it existed. But, once he remembered, it was easier. So much easier. The shaking stopped and he could feel his heart accepting what was there. It was okay to be doubtful. It was okay to be human, even for Santa Claus.

"What happened?" Sam asked after dashing over to Dean, helping pull him from underneath the man who he had tried to keep up. "Where'd it go?"

"Where it belongs, I think," Dean replied. "You found the answer, Sammy. You just didn't know that you did. When you said that he had purged his body of negative thoughts and emotions, that was it. Nobody can truly function without them, and they can't be transferred…"

"Which means that they were just lingering around, building up as time went on…"

"And now," Santa rose to his knees, "now I understand that. And with that understanding I can assure that something like this will never happen again. You did it, you two," he smiled. "You saved this place. You saved Hope. Thank you."


	15. Epilogue

There was celebration throughout the workshop. But the Winchester brothers rarely stayed around for such things. Happiness was not something they were unaccustomed to, but, given everything that they faced, it seemed like more of a slap in the face than anything. Especially since, in all likelihood, they would just be facing down death again in a day. Or on a Thursday. Whichever came first.

"Are you sure it's over?" Sam asked.

Santa smiled, "I would have thought that you would have been happy to have everything over, both of you. I imagine that there was little worth being an elf for."

"Oh, I don't know…" Dean grinned, "there were some perks."

"It'll be okay, Sam," Santa said. "As long as I remember the things that I learned on this day, everything will be okay. And, trust me, these are lessons that I'm never going to forget, as long as I live." He changed the subject, "Your clothes are in those rooms over there, left for you, Dean, and right for you, Sam."

"You're not sending us back into Alaska completely naked?" Dean griped. "How kind of you."

"The least I could do…"

"Tell me about it…" the elder Winchester retorted.

"Dean!" Sam reprimanded his brother, yet again. "It's very kind of you, Santa."

"Well, you two really should get going…"

Dean walked into his assigned room and waited. He heard the snap of fingers and felt the familiar feeling that seemed like it had happened such a long time before. When he opened his eyes he saw his naked body, and the first thing he did was touch his ears. It took everything that he had not to cheer when he felt the lack of points. Though he would miss the way that the women loved them, it just didn't suit him. He hurriedly draped his clothing on, trying to get away from the place before the fat man changed his mind.

Fully human once more, Dean stepped out of the room fully clothed. Sam was already out, but there was an unmistakable smile on his brother's face. "Checked the ears right away, didn't you?"

"Yeah…"

"You're both on the nice list for life. Even you, Dean," Santa gave a knowing glare at the older of the two.

"I just saved the world… if I should ever have any kids, they should be on the nice list for life, too. And their kids. As long as the Winchester name exists…"

"It will," Santa replied. "As long as things threaten innocent people, there will be a reason for your family to exist. Your father understood that. It was why he made the choice that he did."

"Come on, Sammy," Dean quickly rebuffed the comment, mostly because he didn't want to get into some sort of theological discussion about his father and the reasons that John Winchester did whatever it was that he did. "We should get going."

"Goodbye, Santa." Sam couldn't leave without saying goodbye. It just seemed wrong.

"Everyone here owes you a debt of extreme gratitude, boys. Never forget that. And, if you ever need me for anything, you know where to find me."

Dean opened the door, only to see someone that he had hoped to avoid. "Oh…"

Holly looked up. Way up. She was looking for Mistletoe. And, with one look at his face, she was pretty sure that she had found him. "Mistletoe?"

"Dean." Dean replied. "My real name is Dean."

"I don't… I don't understand…"

"I was never really an elf, Holly," Dean knelt down so he could be closer to Holly's eye level. "I'm human. I'm a hunter. I deal with things that people don't believe exist. That's why Santa called me and my brother. That's him over there. His name is Sammy. Freakishly tall, isn't he?"

"You were just going to leave?"

"I… didn't know how you would take it… I didn't want to hurt you." The nice people were always the ones that were hardest to hurt, even for him. "I thought it would be easier this way."

Holly gave a somber smile, "It wouldn't have been. I told you earlier, remember? I knew that you were different. I didn't know you were this different, but I knew that you were different. And I knew that you wouldn't stick around. But, I'm glad to have met you, Dean, and I'll always remember you."

"Same here. Stay safe, Holly."

"You do the same." But somehow, she knew that it would be a lot easier for her to stay safe than it would be for him. And, she watched him walk away with his brother. When they were out of sight she was able to close her eyes and let a single tear streak down her face.

They stepped out of the portal and back into the world that they were accustomed. No pointy ears. No bells. No height deficiencies. Nothing. Just Dean and Sam Winchester, as they were intended to be. With a few things changed about themselves.

"What was that all about?" Sam finally asked.

"What are you talking about, Sammy?"

"Holly… you said you didn't want to hurt her. Why would it…" and Sam just read the look that his brother gave him. "Oh… you didn't…"

Dean nodded, "I did. Twice. Let me tell you, elf sex is… amazing. And that hardwood thing… I might give it a try."

"Too much information!" Sam recoiled.

"You're just jealous because you didn't get any…"

"I was doing my job!"

"I was doing my job, too! I moonlight as a boy of the night…"

"Yeah… yeah you do…" but, though his brother had tactics that were hardly agreeable, Sam wouldn't change him for the world. Well, maybe he'd keep the bells around, just because…


End file.
